Revelations
by grumkinsnark
Summary: What if there were enough girls for a Cornwall team? What if Sebastian didn’t go to London? What if Viola never attended Illyria? A different take on the story. *On hiatus, unfortunately.
1. Intrigue

**Revelations**

_**Chapter One: Intrigue**_

* * *

Viola ran down to the soccer pitch as fast as she could. Which was pretty quick, considering the shape she was in. Still, she was afraid she was late for the tryouts. She had really meant to be on time. But, things happened as they did, and here she was, running for her life. She exhaled when she saw the girls from her team lined up on the 18-yard, her coach nowhere to be seen.

She slowed down a little, adjusted her bag strap and dropped her ball to the ground, choosing to kick it now with her feet as opposed to carrying it. She was almost to the line-up, when, "Hastings!"

"Oops…" Viola said to herself.

Coach Jillian Steinfeld was not one to be messed with. Unlike the milquetoast Coach Pistonek, Coach Jillian was hardcore, rigid to a fault, and not one to be bending the rules. Viola turned around, giving the Coach the most apologetic smile she could. Jillian responded with a cold stare.

"Would you mind telling us why you're late?" she commanded.

Viola groaned inwardly. This was one of the things she hated about Jillian. She would never take something quiet. She wasn't a coach that took you into the office to talk to you, no. She was the one that would like to point out your problems in as public of a manner as possible. Which meant pointing out Viola's reason in front of the whole girls' soccer squad.

With any other person, Viola would have responded with some smartass remark, but even though she loved soccer, she didn't exactly want to run five more laps. "Um, well, see, I was helping my brother move into his dorm at Illyria."

It was a true statement, after all. "Uh huh. You're brother is also your twin, correct?"

"Yeah…"

"Which makes him damn near old enough to move himself in, doesn't it, Miss Hastings? An extra lap for you. Now get to work! I want to see no hesitations out there! Divide up now, all of you!" Jillian ordered.

Viola sighed again, but ran out to join the team and got her butt to work, considering she was already starting out on the wrong foot. Jillian didn't have favorites, which meant that the three years Viola had spent on her team at Cornwall was out the window. This would be a fun season.

* * *

Once tryouts were done for the day, Viola just about crawled back to up to the school, wondering how her legs survived the practice. Yes, she was very physically fit and could probably withstand boys' practices, but for some reason today Jillian was being harsher than usual, not letting any of the girls relax for a moment. Viola was curious as to whether or not this was in store for the rest of the season, also.

Soon, Kia and Yvonne joined her lying down on the stone benches, and by their coarse breathing and glistening faces, Viola could tell they were rather worn out as well. "Some practice, huh?" Yvonne breathed, her chest's rising and falling slowing, but not dramatically.

"Oh, yes." Viola responded after a moment. "Very fun, indeed."

They sat there for a few minutes, just trying to catch their breaths, when Kia asked, "Hey, do any of you know what time it is? I'm supposed to—"

"Shit!" Viola said, bolting upright. "I promised Sebastian I'd help him finish unpacking! Oh, damnit he's not going to be pleased with me!"

Viola, still in her whole soccer garb, ball and all, started running (energy renewed), towards the parking lot. She got out her cell phone and rapidly, trying her hardest not to have her sweaty fingers slip on the keys, tried calling Paul, who was the only one of her good friends who had a car. After the fourth ring, she was afraid he left his in the back room of the salon he worked at again, but he picked it up just before the answering message started.

"Hello? Vi, is that you? Aren't you supposed to be at tryouts?" Paul answered.

"No, we're done. Listen, could you do me a huge favor?" she asked, hoping he wasn't too busy at the moment.

"Yeah, I'll be over there in a bit. Just give me five minutes, okay?"

Viola smiled into the phone as she snapped it shut. Her friends knew her too well. "Hey, baby!" A familiar voice called out to her.

She was pleased and exasperated at the same time to hear her boyfriend's voice. She turned around and plastered a smile on her face. "Hey, Justin."

He leaned into kiss her, but she put her hands on his chest. "Baby, what's wrong?"

"Justin, I just got done with a two-hour tryout session. I'm sweaty, gross and disgusting. And so are you."

"Aw, come on. You're not one to let a little dirt stop you!" he said, trying to kiss her again.

This time she slapped his hand away. "Justin, stop! I don't want to make out with you every two seconds, okay? Just chill."

He stared at her like she was someone completely different. "Vi, I don't know what's with you, but you should figure it out, okay?" he said, slightly concerned-sounding.

She shook her head. This was the opportunity, and she wasn't going to miss it. Yeah, sometimes he was nice as a boyfriend, but for the most part, he was too clingy and whiny for her to handle. Now was the time to ditch that baggage. "And you should find yourself another girlfriend."

She pushed his hand away again, this time without any struggle, and she imagined it was from the priceless face he gave her in response to what she said. Needless to say, she felt as if a weight had been lifted, one that had been pressing on her for the last couple weeks. Part of her elation died, however, when she heard the honking from Paul's car, reminding her that she had an angry brother to deal with. All in the life of Viola Hastings.

She ran down to where he was and quickly got into the passenger seat. She put on her seatbelt when he had already started reversing to get out of the loading zone. "So what's the big emergency, Vi? I had to postpone an old lady's dye job to come get you."

"Aw, Paul, I'm sorry. I keep asking my mom for a car, but she says 'it's not right for a debutante to drive! She must be prissy and bitchy and neat all the time!'" Paul gave her an odd look. "Alright, alright, I added the last part in, but for the most part that's what she said. Anyway, can you please drop me off at Illyria? I completely forgot that Sebastian asked me to help him move some of his stuff into his new dorm."

Paul laughed. "No offense, Vi, but what does he need your help for?"

"None taken, and I don't know. I just think he's unhappy with Mom and Dad making him go to another school rather than letting him go on with his music. I'm surprised he doesn't just fly off to London one of these days! I'd say that he wants me there for moral support, but I'm also thinking it's just cause he doesn't want to move all of it himself. I know he puts on a strong man façade, but he's really actually very wimpy at times."

"You don't have to explain all that to me, Vi. I just needed to mainly know where I'm headed."

She smiled and leaned back, spinning her soccer ball on her finger for the rest of the ride.

* * *

Viola thanked Paul for giving her a ride, and as he drove off, she walked up the steps to the main part of the school, admiring the beautiful stonework and architecture of it. Illyria really was a better school, she admitted. Yeah, Cornwall was good, but Illyria did look more appeasing on first glance. She walked absentmindedly up to where the dorm buildings were, and walked into the Windsor building, trying to find the right corridor for Sebastian's room, 234, amidst all the roughhousing of the dorm boys. Really, they needed to shape up. They were almost in college for goodness' sake!

Once she did finally find it, though, she knocked…rather loudly, hoping he could even hear it through all the commotion going on outside. "Com—n—" was the muffled reply she thought she heard.

Assuming it was meant as an invitation for her to let herself in, she did. She automatically looked to Sebastian's bed on the right, thinking him to be where he usually would be, playing his guitar. Only this time he wasn't there. It didn't look like he had done any moving in, either. The bedspread wasn't even thrown on yet, and only one of his couple duffel bags of household wares was piled against the wall. She was about to roll her eyes when she remembered that _someone _had told her to come in.

She gave a hesitant smile as she slowly turned around (shutting the door behind her), to face three guys: one shirtless and looking at her with an odd expression on his face, one playing a video game, completely unaware as to the fact that a girl had just entered their room, and one looking at a magazine, glancing up for a second, but not really paying attention.

"H-Hi." She greeted. She didn't want to prolong the already awkward silence longer than it needed to be. "I'm Viola Hastings, Sebastian's sister. I was supposed to be here to help him move in, but—," She looked around for effect, "—it looks like he's not here. You wouldn't happen to know where he is, would you?" she asked hopefully.

Only the shirtless guy seemed to actually acknowledge fully that she was there. Sometimes guys still surprised her at their obliviousness. "No, sorry. We had hardly met. He just came in here with one bag and a guitar in his hand, and then left, keeping the guitar and throwing his other stuff against the wall. He didn't even say his name. But thanks for telling us it's Sebastian. That's helpful."

Viola smiled. This guy was nice. And not so bad on the eyes, either. "So what was your name? I'm afraid I didn't catch it."

"O-Oh, Duke Orsino. Sorry. A-And, Andrew and Toby. They live next door."

He gave an uncomfortable half-smile, and seemed a little out of place, which was an interesting occurrence. Like she said, guys still did surprise her. Viola nodded, and was about to give a reassuring smile again, when she noticed he had a soccer ball in the corner, and posters of Frank Lampard, Eddie Gaven, and Arjen Robben, them being some of her favorite soccer players.

"You play soccer?" she asked exhilaratingly, unable to hold back her excitement. It was almost rhetorical, as it was obvious he did.

Something lit up in his face. "Definitely. I'm a striker. They're halfbacks." Duke said, referring to Andrew and Toby. No move from them.

"Excellent. Good to know at least his _roommate _has some common sense! I'm center forward by the way. Oh, and if you're wondering about my appearance, I just got done with my soccer tryouts, so that's why I'm disgusting looking."

Duke grinned. "Yeah? What team you play for?"

"C—" Viola paused, knowing all too well the rivalry between the two schools. _Ah, the hell with it. They don't like it, too bad. _"Cornwall. I go to Cornwall."

Disgust crossed Duke's face, and suddenly, as if their hearing had been turned on, Andrew dropped his controller to look at her, and Toby similar with his magazine. Viola suddenly felt very uncomfortable. She looked down, wondering why this was affecting her so much. Usually she'd be just fine, but for some reason, these three guys' scrutinizing stares made her regret telling them she goes to Cornwall.

"Hey, don't take it like that. It's just—well…you know the rivalry between us. I-I guess it-it shouldn't extend to all parts and people of the school, though. As long as you don't tell anyone else, you'll be fine."

She could tell his attempt at reassurance was very, very forced indeed, but she was glad of his effort, anyway. She had an idea of how strong the rivalry was, and she imagined it wasn't exactly easy to say that it didn't matter too much that she was from Cornwall. She looked up, giving him a genuine smile. She gave a shaky laugh. "Thanks." She looked at the time displayed on her cell phone, seeing that it was _Sebastian _this time that was late. "Oh, well, it was nice talking to you and all, but I can't just sit around here all day waiting for my dumbass brother to get his male butt into gear, so I'm going to head out, but tell him to give me a call if he wants to apologize, okay?"

Duke nodded, and she left, her parting gesture being to attempt to say goodbye to Andrew and Toby, but seeing them having gone back to their respective toys, she exhaled in annoyance.

"Who _was _that?" Duke asked to no one in particular.

* * *

Okay, so it might not be my best work, but I was very, very compelled to do this, because this movie is my all-time favorite. I hope it's okay, though. I'll update as soon as I can! I have ideas as to where this'll go, but if you have any suggestions, I'm welcome to them. Later! 


	2. Closer

**Revelations**

_**Chapter Two: Closer**_

* * *

It was late at night indeed when Sebastian got back to his dorm room. He was still carrying his guitar, strapped around his neck, and he didn't bother to try and silence the door from slamming, despite the hour. Sebastian put his guitar down and sighed when he saw none of his stuff was set up and he'd have to do it alone in the dark. He forgot about the fact that his sister had stopped by to help him earlier that day, and it really was mainly his fault none of it was arranged how he wanted it.

"Dude, where've you been? Your sister was pretty pissed you weren't here." Since Duke wasn't a completely sound sleeper anyway, the noise from the door awakened him.

Sebastian flinched slightly at the surprise of Duke's voice. He turned on the light, and apart from an extra blink, Duke didn't give any reaction to the abrupt light change. "Sorry, man, didn't know you were awake."

"I wasn't."

"Oh. I'm Sebastian, by the way. And Vi was here? How come?" Sebastian asked, now looking at his again shirtless dormmate, who was now sitting on the futon in their room.

"Yeah, your sister told us. I'm Duke Orsino, and she came by to help you set up all your junk, but you never showed so she left. She told me to tell you that when you're ready to apologize, you need to give her a call."

Sebastian smiled guiltily. "Sounds like Vi. Well, I guess I'll let you get to sleep again, now, though. I'll set it all up in the morning."

Duke gave him an unimpressed look, but instead of going back to his bed, he pulled on a sweatshirt over his bare chest, put on some sweatpants, threw on some socks, and grabbed his cleats and ball. "No, I think I'll go down and kick the ball around. Give you a chance to get situated. I'll be up later, so don't wait up for me." He added the last statement sarcastically.

"Later." Sebastian said, as Duke walked out of the room, not so happy with the first impression of Sebastian. So far as he could tell, Sebastian and his sister weren't very much alike.

Whatever thoughts Duke had of playing by himself, however, were thrown out the window when he saw a silhouetted figure down with their own ball, varying between taking shots on goal, dribbling around, and volleying the ball to him or herself. Whoever was down there was pretty good, Duke noticed. Got the ball into the goal every time, usually shooting it right into the corners, chipping it perfectly. Just like Duke, he or she was also in a sweatshirt, sweatpants, and cleats. It looked like he wasn't the only one who was currently having trouble getting to sleep.

Figuring he might as well consider some competition (not to mention he didn't just want to watch someone play), he jogged down the hill to the soccer field. He didn't bother to approach silently, as he knew how he hated it when someone came up behind him when he was in his element, without notification. It broke his concentration, and did not make him very happy.

The figure turned their head to him as he or she heard him come up to them, and stopped mid-juggle, catching the ball at their feet. The closer he came, he saw it was a girl. He was immediately more impressed at her skills. Not that he was sexist at all, but she was definitely better than some of the guys on his team.

"Can I help you?" she asked.

The voice was too familiar. He walked closer so he could see her face better. He smiled when he recognized who it was. "Hey. Viola, right?" he asked.

Her face also then held recognition, and she joined his smile. "Yeah. Hi again. Come to also get some late-night exhilaration?"

"Yes. There's something just so peaceful and nothing more of a high—natural or not—than kicking the ball by yourself at night, lit only by moonlight. But anyways, no offense, but why are you practicing here? You said you go to Cornwall, correct?"

She snorted as if it was a stupid question. "Yeah, I go there. But the soccer fields there aren't any comparison at all to the ones here at Illyria. I've never seen a more beautiful pitch in my life. On my way out of here earlier today, I decided to stop by here quickly, and I was taken aback at the perfection of it. I just had to come out again. Preferably when no one would be here. Because you're right—it's incomparable, this feeling playing at night. But I can leave if you want. I understand the need of solitude. I mean, I didn't want to intrude, I just didn't think anyone would be here."

Immediately he was overcome with a feeling of admiration and attraction to her. He hardly knew her and yet he felt he had so much in common with her. No one, not even Andrew or Toby, knew exactly to the degree the great ecstasy that occurred in the hours of late night or early morning playing. Yet here she was, someone he had met for a couple minutes, and she described his thoughts precisely. His previous notion was correct…Sebastian and his sister weren't anything alike.

"No, stay. Sometimes playing with someone is just as good as playing by yourself. And you could show some actual competition. I've dragged some of my friends out here to play with me at night, and they gave a half-assed effort. If you don't mind my interruption, I'd enjoy your company."

Her grin widened, and when she noticed his ball was on the ground, she dropped her own and passed it to him, via rainbow kick. He caught it on his laces and kicked it up to where it now rested in his hands. Contrary to what people might think if they saw him do that, he wasn't doing it to impress her. He would have done that if, say, Toby had passed the ball to him. It was less effort to do that than to pick up the ball. What could he say, even though he worked hard to keep his body as fit as it was, he still allowed himself to be lazy at times.

He waited for her to run a respectable distance away from him, and he did a low-speed side drop kick to her, to which she wall passed it off to him again. They didn't realize quite how long they'd been just passing it back and forth, and frankly neither cared. They were both in a state of euphoria, and they didn't particularly want to be jolted out of it by something as trivial as the hour of a day.

It was only when they switched to taking turns shooting on goal and Duke decided to change it up by scoring with his signature bicycle kick (as he was one of the few that had mastered it), that Viola stopped the fast-paced rapidity they had both set, causing him to give her a quizzical glance.

"What?" he asked. Well, breathed rather, as he was slightly short of breath even though he was enjoying every minute of their practice.

She glared at him. "How do you do that?"

"Do what?" he was truly confused.

"Do tricks like that! I can never do them and yet you do it like it's nothing! This is so frustrating." She threw the ball hard off to the side as if reiterating her point.

Duke gave a small smile at her comment. He hadn't meant to do it as an implication that he was better than her. He just wanted to get the buzz out of his whole body, not just his foot. "Sorry. I didn't mean it like that. Here, I'll be goalie." He suggested.

She shook her head. "No, it's just I—well…" she stopped, seeming to be somewhat ashamed. Duke prompted her with a look. "Well, I'm just used to being one of the better players, and it's just that when I see someone so obviously more talented than I—I get kind of hotheaded."

Duke nodded. "Oh come on. You'd just need someone to teach you. I bet you'd get it on the first try."

She went over to the ball she had previously thrown aside and chipped it at him. He staggered a bit at both the speed and intensity of the ball and the fact that he wasn't expecting it, but caught it nonetheless. "Then teach me." She said, giving him a sly smile.

Duke was right again in the instance that she would catch on quick. She fell only a couple of times, but it seemed like no time had passed before she had perfected it to his level. He had never worked with such a fast learner. Granted, he hadn't taught many people many things, but he was impressed yet again nonetheless.

"I don't know what you're talking about." He said when she had done it three times in a row. "You're a fantastic soccer player. No worse than I am, that is. It took me forever to learn that. You are definitely a better athlete than most of the guys on my team. And much less cocky, too. Not to mention your incredible stamina and energy. I'm having trouble keeping up with you."

Viola had been complimented before, but yet she blushed at his. "Thanks. You're pretty adequate, too."

"Adequate?" he asked, slightly taken aback. He was modest, but not that modest.

She tossed the ball at his head again, and laughed. "Calm down, Orsino. I was joking!"

"Oh you're very funny. Though you should keep that biting wit to yourself or you'll ward off any attempts at friendship. Or more, rather."

As he said that, she couldn't help but have a small part of her think he might be flirting with her. But then she realized he was simply being funny as well. "Yeah, well. That biting wit of mine saved me from enduring more of a very dull and irritating relationship."

"Yeah? Who'd you break up with?" he asked, interest in his voice.

"Well, I don't know if you'd know him. His name's Justin Drayton, and he's the—"

"Wait, _Drayton? _As in cry-baby Drayton?" Duke asked incredulously.

Viola had to stifle a snicker. "Yeah, I take it you know him?"

"How could I forget? I was the one to make him cry at that game! God that was hilarious."

Viola had to agree with him. Even though she was going out with him at the time, she still thought it was rather humorous. After all, that kick that Duke sent right into Justin's head was pretty spectacular. She especially loved his excuse of that he had something in his eye during the game. No, that wasn't true. He had a SOCCER BALL on his eye.

"Nice kick in that game, by the way."

"Thanks. It's a good thing you dumped him, though. Now we'll all get to see more of his crying antics. I can't wait to see his face when we beat him in our season opener."

"Oh, that's right, Cornwall is playing Illyria, huh! Sometimes I am just the densest person you'll ever meet."

"Yet I'm still glad I met you."

"What?"

"Oh, sorry, I have to go…I have practice tomorrow. Hopefully, I'll see you later, okay?" Duke said hastily, as he picked up his ball and jogged back up.

Now Viola was sure he was flirting with her, one way or another. And she didn't exactly have a problem with it.

* * *

Yeah, I know, I'm sorry it's very short, you guys. I usually write longer chapters! Hmm this is frustrating. But the loads of reviews I got were insane! Thank you all!

Gratifications to:

WishingStar436 (don't worry, there'll be more Andrew and Toby to come), BrookieCookie490 (love your name!), breanda, John cena punk princes, getagrip91, IloveDukeO (don't we all love him, honey?), ShyofLife, hulahula551, emma134, CassieLovesRyne (yes, I know Americans don't usually use the term striker for forward, but then again, even though I am an American, I don't like us much, so…yeah), forgottenMisfit, princesscatie21, and lovestoread.

And everyone else that might have read this story! Love you all!


	3. Surprise

**Revelations**

_**Chapter 3: Surprise**_

* * *

Duke hastily retrieved his ball and ran up the hill, until he was out of eyesight of Viola. Truth was, he was surprised at himself. He wasn't generally one to flirt so openly with girls, let alone feel comfortable talking to them. He wondered what it was about this one that had him so mesmerized. Maybe it was her soccer skills, maybe it was her beauty, maybe it was her wit…he didn't know. All he knew was that she was different. He found he couldn't take his eyes off of her from where he was sitting. He just sat there watching her continue on by herself, and he even smiled when he saw her try and succeed at another bicycle kick or two. He knew it was probably bordering on very weird for him to just be staring at her kick the ball around, but then again, he felt she was worthy of his gazing. Then something happened in his brain, and he shook himself out of this odd reverie he was having. What was he doing? He wasn't one to do this! Yeah, he had thought he felt this way about Olivia (hell, he was still kind of enamored with her), but then again, he could hardly get a word out with her. Viola (his roommate's _sister!_), had definitely sent something unique through his mind, and while part of him wanted it to continue, his more rational part—yes, he did have a rational side—told him he was going crazy if he was thinking this about her. He shook his head, trying to clear his thoughts, bounced his ball, and headed back to his dorm, where he hoped Sebastian had fallen asleep so he wouldn't see Duke's face and ask questions. After all, how would he explain this?

* * *

Viola was equally surprised with herself. She hadn't expected someone to come out to her midnight practice, and she thought she'd be pissed off that someone interrupted it, but, incredulously, she found she didn't mind Duke being that person. Honestly, she was pleased that he came to join her. Yes, she definitely loved taking a few hours to herself (especially in the midnight hours), but his competition presented to her made her enjoy it even more. He was a challenge, and being her, she loved a challenge. Even though she didn't express it, she had a hard time keeping up with his fast pace, and more than once she found herself stumbling after a particularly difficult kick he gave her. Granted, she hoped it wasn't too visible, her hesitations, but they were there nonetheless. And although she was elated at practicing with him, she was also getting more and more frustrated as time went by. As she told him, she was used to being just about the best person on her team—even better than some of the guys—but she finally had to admit to herself that he was without a doubt the superior player. His tricks that he added in finally pushed her over the top. She usually didn't get too angry with people unless she figured they truly deserved it, yet here she was getting annoyed at him for simply including some of his talents. He then astonished her more by being courteous and suggesting to play goalie, when she could tell he hated the position, and probably wasn't very excellent at playing it. Then furthermore by agreeing to teach her how to do one of his more fantastic tricks. The same it was surprising to him, it also surprised her that she learned it so quickly. Truthfully, she didn't think she was a very fast learner, but obviously in this instance she was proved wrong. It wasn't the first time tonight that had happened to her. All in all, she was confused. All these thoughts running through her head…they were meddling with each other, tying up her better judgments and making her suspicious of herself. She, of course, didn't realize Duke was also wondering the same things.

Finally fed up with herself, she kicked the ball with as much intensity and bottled up emotion that she could and hardly noticed it hit the bar instead of going in the goal. What was more annoyance anyway? She sighed, picked up her ball (reminiscent of Duke's behavior), and trudged up the steps, figuring she'd just walk home, even though it was an acceptingly long distance. She needed the time to clear her head, anyway.

* * *

When Sebastian woke up the next morning (well, rather, a few hours after Duke entered the room), he noticed his roommate was still sleeping. This funnily enough was interesting to him, as he pegged Duke to be the early riser, the one to take six A.M. jogs in the mornings. He shrugged, got dressed, grabbed his guitar, and walked out of the room. He wasn't completely insensitive; he wouldn't be so rude as to wake Duke up with his strumming. He'd just go find some place on campus to play.

As he was just entering the main part of the school, however, and was distracted by trying to fix the clip on his strap, he realized he bumped into someone. His head snapped up to see a blonde girl now on the ground. "Oh, my God, I'm so sorry!" he said sincerely. She looked up and he was taken aback at her attractiveness. He held out a hand to help her up, and she took it gratefully.

"Don't worry, I wasn't watching where I was going. Thanks for the concern, but really it's fine." She said apologetically.

"It's purely my fault. I was distracted. I'm Sebastian Hastings. Might as well know the name of the guy who knocked you to the ground."

She smiled. "Olivia Lennox. Pleased to meet you."

They shook hands, and as they parted ways, after he helped her pick up her books, they both were thinking about who the other was exactly.

* * *

Meanwhile, back at Viola and Sebastian's house, Viola was just waking up, arising later than usual, considering the lack of sleep she got. She groaned at her tiredness, but once she was up, she was not one to get back to sleep. She got out of bed, brushed her teeth and hair, and walked downstairs, not bothering to change out of her pajamas, or put on any makeup or fix her appearance at all. To Viola's irritation, her mother was standing at the bottom of the stairs, perfectly dressed in a matching outfit, a big smile on her face.

"Mother, how can you be so happy in the morning?" Viola asked, her voice still groggy. She yawned widely, not bothering to hide it.

Her mother ignored Viola's comment, and clasped her hands together. Viola thought she looked like a Maltese hyped up on caffeine. Not a good combination. "I have a present for you!"

Viola closed her eyes and sighed. She hated her mom's presents. Usually they consisted of something completely girly and not her whatsoever. "Aw, Mom, not again."

Daphne took Viola by the hands and led her into the living room of their house, which was also equally matching in color and style. Viola couldn't believe what she was seeing. Laying right before her lay no less than four dresses…all of them just as hideous as the first. They were all white, with poofy sleeves, sequins everywhere, and…ruffles. It looked like a fabric factory had blown up, and these were the results made by shrapnel and thread! She couldn't even come up with a store that could possibly sell these! Were they an April Fools' joke?

Viola made the most disgusting look on her face she could manage, trying to mimic the style of the dresses. "Ew, Mom, no. Just…no."

Daphne's huge smile faltered slightly, but she was still holding up the dresses in front of her, as if trying to see how they would look on Viola. "Oh, sweetie, please? You will look darling as a debutante! These are simply perfect! Will you at least go to the fundraiser next week? It'll be a carnival! I'm sure your brother will come as well if you tell him!"

Viola couldn't take any more of this. She finally gave in. A little. "FINE! I'll go to your ridiculous carnival! But I'm wearing my own dress and I'm bringing Sebastian!"

If it was possible, Daphne's smile widened to the point of it looking scary. "Oh, this will be wonderful! My darling daughter finally going to be a lady!"

Viola gave her mom a fakely excited half-smile. "Goodie." She said sarcastically. The next few days would be torture. What had she gotten herself into? Her only pleasure was that she would drag Sebastian with her and make him suffer as much as she had to.

* * *

After Sebastian decided he was finished playing his guitar—he couldn't concentrate after all…he kept thinking about Olivia—he walked back to his and Duke's room. He noticed Duke was reading a magazine, barely making reference to Sebastian's entrance. As Sebastian set his guitar back in its case, he noticed he had a message. He pressed the button to play the recordings, and noticed it came from the house phone. He hoped it wasn't his mother telling him something or other about Viola having to be a debutante. In that respect, he really felt for his sister.

"_Hey, Sebastian. It's Viola. I guess I missed you. Anyway, I was just calling to tell you that Mom has decided to force me, dead or alive, to that ridiculous carnival fundraiser thing in a few days. It was that or wear dresses designed for a cow. But I'm still not happy about it. Point is, though, is that I have decided to bestow you the favor of joining me there. Aren't you glad? I've done it all in your best interest, of course. Well, maybe not _all _in your best interest, but yeah. So I'll see you there, okay, bro? If you don't come, after all, you know Mom will have a hissy fit and both of us will never see the end of it. I think I'm running out of time for my message to you, so I'll go away now. Love you!"_

Sebastian groaned as soon as he heard what Viola was forcing on him. He heard stifled laughter coming from the corner of the room, and saw Duke was trying his hardest not to crack up. Sebastian picked up a pillow and threw it at him. "Shut up."

Duke finally let go and he busted out laughing, not able to contain it anymore. "Dude, you're in for hell."

"Yeah, how would you know?" Sebastian asked.

"I gotta go too. My mom's in Junior League as well. But at least I don't have to deal with being forced there. This'll be hilarious."

Sebastian had to agree with him. Except for the hilarious part. He, personally, did not find anything funny about it. And he did not believe for an instant Vi's concern for him. She was doing this purely to escape the full wrath of their mother. He finally decided to change the subject.

"So how'd you like my sister?" he questioned. He had no idea that Duke would have a problem answering the question.

"W-What do you mean?" Duke stuttered slightly, trying to hide a possible blush coming into his face.

Sebastian frowned at his roommate's behavior. He shrugged it off. "I mean, did you like her?"

"I don't know, dude, I only met her for a couple minutes." This was a lie, of course, as he had spent a few hours with her and had grown quite captivated by her. "Anyway, how am I supposed to answer that? She's your sister."

"That she is." Sebastian had the sense that Duke wasn't telling him everything, but he decided to lay off. For now.

"And how about you? You meet anyone interesting?"

It was Sebastian's turn to be sheepish. "Well…sort of. I kind of hit her hard and she fell. But I guess you could say I met her."

"Oh, really. What's her name?" Duke asked, not particularly interested, but playing it off as such.

Sebastian smiled despite himself. "Olivia Lennox."

Duke snapped his head over to look at Sebastian. "_Olivia?_" Duke said disbelievingly.

"You know her?"

"You could say that. She's in my lab class." Duke replied. He didn't mention the fact that he had liked her for three years. "But she's being stalked by this guy, Malcolm. No one likes him. It's actually rather scary watching him. He's a creepy guy."

Sebastian took that into account. "I see. Well, not too much of a problem, eh?"

"What, you're going to stalk her, too?" Even though Duke had more than taken a liking to Sebastian's sister, he wasn't exactly going to get over the crush he had with Olivia overnight.

"No, I'm not going to stalk her! But I'm not saying I wouldn't like to meet her again, either."

Duke shook his head, and turned back to his magazine without saying anything. He wasn't sure what to think of his roommate.

* * *

Viola woke up the day of the carnival, not happy at all for the day to come. She spent an extra ten minutes or so simply covering her head in her pillow, dreading however much time she'd have to be there. She really hoped Sebastian got her message and would show. If he didn't, she would be so mad at him he'd cower. Finally, she decided that if she didn't get up herself, her mother would have to wake her up, and she definitely did not want that to happen. Dragging herself out of bed, she put the red dress that Kia had let her borrow, put on some makeup and mascara, brushed her teeth and hair, and carried the shoes she was going to wear down the stairs. Much as she hated wearing them, she still wouldn't make her mother pissed by making marks on the hardwood floor. Daphne was waiting for her (déjà vu for Viola), yet again at the bottom, simply ecstatic at Viola's appearance. Viola sighed and joined her mom in the car.

When they arrived there, her mom immediately went off into some tent, probably expecting Viola to follow her, but Viola took to looking for Sebastian. After a few minutes of waiting, she finally spotted him and ran over to her brother. She gave him a huge fake smile, mimicking her mother. He seemed to notice the similarity.

"Vi, I hope you know, I am not pleased to be here." He said dully.

"Oh, I know, but you love me so much you decided to appease me, right?" she said in a baby voice.

"Sure. Anyway, you know Duke, right? These are his friends, Andrew and Toby." Sebastian introduced, gesturing to the three people he just listed.

"Yeah, we've all met. Well, met being a relative term. Andrew and Toby didn't exactly acknowledge me." She said, trying to get them to this time.

It seemed to work, as they stared at her like she was the first girl they had ever seen. Andrew's mouth was open, much like it was just moments earlier when he was so excited about seeing all the things at the carnival. Toby's eyes were widened at her, and she gave a hesitant smile at them. She wasn't sure what her thoughts were of his friends. Of course, she hadn't talked to them before, but they weren't exactly giving her a good first impression. She turned to Duke, and actually smiled for real this time. He appeared slightly dumbstruck that she was here. She knew she looked better now that she was all showered and dressed up, but she didn't think she'd create such a perception to them.

"Hey." She said to Duke.

"H-Hey." He replied. She stifled a laugh at his behavior.

"Well, shall we?" Viola suggested to her brother.

It was then that Sebastian happened to lay his gaze on the kissing booth, where he saw Olivia. "Y-Yeah…"

* * *

This was, I think, a bit longer for you guys? I'm sorry for the shortness of these ones, though, I usually write more! I hope this one was slightly better, though. Next chapter will be more of the carnival scene, as I hope was implicated. Anyway, a million thanks to:

**litprincess, forgottenMisfit (**thanks so much! But I seriously think the movie is not comparable to anything**), WishingStar436 (**I tried to include a little Andrew and Toby in this one…there'll be more to come**), Fairysky (**Nah, you're not a stalker…love you!**), John cena punk princes, BrookieCookie490, princesscatie21, JaysHeartsDesire, Dhr-Angel, jean, lovestoread, iloveduke435, -xAxsxHxlxExyx, ShyofLife, sam, and everyone else who read!**


	4. Desire

**Revelations**

_**Chapter Four: Desire**_

* * *

Viola quickly caught on to Sebastian's line of vision, followed it, and her eyes also found the kissing booth…along with Olivia. She raised her eyebrow as she turned back to her brother. His face was still and his eyes were fixed at the point just over her shoulder. She was stifling a laugh as she watched Sebastian. She caught Duke's eye, and she saw that he was also trying not to laugh. Andrew was currently high-fiving a clown and taking in the sights of the carnival, and Toby was still staring at her like she was some sort of world anomaly. It was sort of starting to unnerve her, the staring. She shrugged it off, though.

She then decided to give her brother a reality check, and she shoved him, getting him out of his trance. "What?" he asked, as if genuinely surprised.

"Sebastian!" Viola said incredulously. "You're like undressing that girl with your eyes! What is wrong with you?"

Sebastian started to get a light pink color flush into his face. "N-Nothing, Vi. It's nothing. Why would I want to undress her anyway? I barely met her for like a minute."

"A minute, Sebastian? You must have had one hell of an attraction to her, then! To think…my brother actually having a crush on someone. I think I'm going to faint." She said, putting the back of her hand to her forehead, mimicking feeling light-headed. "If you're going to go crazy just ogling at her, then just go over there, will you? As long as she's there, you might as well kiss the crap out of her."

Sebastian stared at his sister. "Well, I—"

"GO!" she and Duke said at the same time.

Sebastian nodded and started to walk over to the kissing booth, just as Viola and Duke looked at each other, almost laughing at themselves for thinking the same things. Then they both actually did bust out cracking up at Sebastian's behavior. Even though Duke had only met Sebastian for a little bit, he did have to admit that it was decidedly hilarious at his reactions to simply seeing Olivia.

"Does your brother usually perform like that in front of girls?" Duke asked, finally getting ahold of his laughing. He then hit Toby. "Dude. Go find Andrew. You're looking just about as ridiculous as Sebastian staring at her like that. Compose yourself, man."

Viola smiled at Duke's seeing Toby's creepiness. Toby did in fact go in search of their overjoyed friend, which caused Duke and Viola to be alone. "Thanks. And no, Sebastian's never like that. Sure, he's liked girls before, but he's never looked at them like that. Especially Monique, the girl he's currently dating. I despise her, just so you know. I wish he'd just dump her. But all he says when I tell him to is that she's hot. Like that's a reason! I'll never understand guys. No offense."

He half-smiled at her. "None taken. But just because of some guys' behavior—the whole saying that they like girls because they're hot—doesn't mean all guys are like that."

As soon as he said that, it looked like he regretted it. Viola grinned at his uneasiness around her. She tried not to dwell on it, but it did rather plague her. What had happened for him to act like this? "Yeah. You're right." She said, giving him a small smile. "Anyway, I'm really sorry, but I think I have to meet my mom wherever the hell she is. I, at least, have to keep up my end of the deal. Or she won't let me play soccer."

"Right, the debutante thing?" he asked.

"Yeah…how did you know that?" she wondered.

"Oh. Yeah. Your brother played your message, and, well, I sort of overheard."

"That would do it. It's a monkey's job, though, this stupid thing. I don't know why she wants to subject me to this worse-than-death fate. It's horrible." She emphasized to him.

"It can't be all that bad." Duke commented.

She gave him a disbelieving look. "Are you crazy? It's _excruciating! _Where in the world would you get the idea that it's not that bad?"

He looked a little taken aback at her outburst. Immediately she felt a bit sorry that she yelled at him like that. "I—you—you should get to your mom, then…"

"Yeah…catch you later, Duke." She replied, for some reason disappointed. Still, she headed off in search of her mother, walking into death's very trap by finding her.

* * *

Sebastian finally got up to being first in line for kissing Olivia, and he admired himself for his initiative to go up and do it in the first place. He did feel bad for her, though. After all, she did have to kiss a million guys. He winced as he saw this scrawny guy with glasses kiss her; he imagined it was very disgusting. To his luck, a kid behind him (he didn't know why this kid was even in line), commented that they should get a room. Olivia blushed as she politely pushed the nerdy guy away from her. She smiled when she saw that Sebastian was in line, and she wiped off her mouth, as if trying to rid it of the countless germs she had for sure acquired.

"Hello again." She greeted.

"Hey." He replied. They were silent for a moment or two.

"So you going to kiss me, or what?" she said, laughing a little.

He blushed. "Oh. Yeah."

She closed her eyes as he did the same, and as their lips connected, he was definitely glad he had paid the fifteen dollars to go get in line. For this was just about the best kiss he had ever had. He hoped his intuition was right that she was enjoying it as well, because she seemed to be participating in it rather exuberantly. He felt like it could have gone on forever, except this time it was unfortunate for him as the kid told them almost the exact same thing.

Olivia was the one to pull away, granted, slowly, but when she looked at him, she looked almost disappointed. He looked at her, disappointment in his face as well. "Sorry." She said sincerely. "I didn't realize _some people_ are so impatient." She said, gesturing to the nine-year-old guy that was behind Sebastian.

"It's alright." Sebastian said, his words betraying what he felt. As it wasn't all right at all with him.

"See you soon, Sparky."

He grinned as he left. Maybe this school wouldn't be so bad, after all.

* * *

Viola walked slowly into the tent where she had seen her mom before. "Hi, Mom." She said dully, purposefully being as restrained as possible. Not that it was very hard.

Sadly, her mother did not share the same unhappiness. Quite the contrary—she was smiling like Viola was actually excited about being a dressed up orangutan. "Oh, sweetie, you look like such a lady!" she expressed. "This is wonderful!"

"Sure, mom. Can I go?" she asked hopefully.

Her mom gave her a look that Viola thought was supposed to be a reprimanding one, but it was rather marred by Daphne's gladness. "No, you can't leave now! Remember, you have the next shift at the kissing booth? And go find and tell your brother that he needs to go to the cotton candy cart! Oh! And don't forget to mingle, darling!"

Viola didn't even attempt a smile. "Whatever." She said. Nevertheless, she did go off to find Sebastian and go subject herself to acquiring the spit of countless single guys. This would be fun.

She exited the tent and gave a quick survey of the carnival grounds. She started slowly walking towards the kissing booth, thinking he was still around it, but she couldn't see him. Just when she was about to give up, though, she saw him next to the Ferris wheel, just standing there. She sighed at her brother's antics and walked over to him.

"Sebastian, Mom wants you to go man the cotton candy place. So off you go." She announced.

He glared at her. "Fine, Vi. But you owe me."

"No I don't. Remember you made me cover for you when you went out to go to—"

Sebastian interrupted her by putting his hand over her mouth. "Shh, Vi. Alright, alright, I'll go. Later."

Viola smiled. It worked every time. Now, for the next order of business. She found her way over to the kissing booth, to see that Olivia had departed already, and a redhead whose name she had no idea, had now apparently taken over. She noticed Duke was next in line (she didn't know why he was even there…she assumed it was because he had nothing else to do), and feeling as if her soul had departed her body and was replaced by someone else, she just about ran over and up to the steps.

"Hey, I'm here to replace you?" Viola said, faking doubt.

"But I just—" The redhead started.

"Yeah, don't ask me why. But if I don't get up here now, I'll get in a crap load of trouble. Sorry." She lied.

Whoever it was who was in front of her shrugged. "Um…okay. Thanks I guess?"

"Yeah. See you."

Viola pretended to be surprised when she saw Duke in front of her. "Oh. Hi. Again." She greeted unsurely.

He looked uncomfortable again. "Hey. Where'd your brother go? He just disappeared.

"He was over by the Ferris wheel when I found him. Dunno why, but he was. Now our mom told me to tell him that he has to go take over for whoever's at the cotton candy place. He owes me, though, so it's all good."

Duke gave her an uneasy smile. "Well, I guess I should—I mean—if you—I—"

"Yeah." Viola said, saving him from stuttering.

He sat down, and though she had kissed guys before (well…guys meaning Justin), she didn't know how to start this one, since usually the guy was the one initiating it, but Duke didn't seem to be. She closed her eyes and found his lips, and soon all doubts faded away, along with all the sounds of the carnival. Duke almost seemed slightly startled at her suddenness, but caught on rather quickly. Before too long, they were kissing rather passionately, both unaware of anything going on around them. For all they knew, people were yelling at them to stop and go get a motel room somewhere. The kiss soon evolved into an outright makeout session, and although Viola got the sense that Duke hadn't had too many intense kisses like this, she went in for tongue anyways. Surprising to her, he didn't hesitate much, and she was simply in bliss, despite the little nagging in her brain that said she barely knew him at all and here she was making out with him. In public no less.

Unfortunately, she soon felt herself being pulled away by someone. Whoever it was was getting her pissed off. She got up in anger and looked into the face of whoever rudely interrupted them, and found that it was none other than Justin. Of all the people to break her pleasure, it had to be him. This just made her even angrier.

"Justin, what the hell are you doing?" she spat at him.

"Exactly the question I was about to ask you." He turned to Duke, a look of recognition in his eyes. "You're making out with my girlfriend, Orsino."

"_Ex-_girlfriend, Justin! Remember?" Viola said, fighting the urge to slap him.

"No one breaks up with me just like that, Viola." Justin said.

Viola couldn't believe him. "Drayton, leave her alone. She broke up with you and you need to lay off. She doesn't want you. Just deal with it." Duke said.

"You don't know what you're doing, Orsino."

"Yeah? And what'll you do to me? Drown me in your tears?" Duke asked, laughing.

"I didn't cry during that game. I had something in my eye." Justin said defensively.

Viola snorted. "Yeah, right, Justin. Bullshit." She replied.

He gave her a glare, and then turned and punched Duke hard in the face. Viola gasped at Justin's reaction. "Get off of him!" she yelled at Justin.

However, it was now turning into a fight between the two, Duke holding his own as well as, regrettably, Justin was. Viola didn't know what to do. She knew hitting Justin would do nothing, and she felt powerless as she watched them hit each other. She had no leverage to do anything, and she didn't like the feeling. They had now fallen off the stage of the kissing booth and were now duping it out on the grass, people turning around to watch them. She wished they wouldn't. It did please her temporarily, though, that Justin was sustaining somewhat worse injuries than Duke was, which Viola assumed was because of Duke's superior soccer skills. After all, Justin was just a goalie, and he definitely wasn't good field-wise.

To her relief, she saw someone running over to where the two guys were fighting, and she saw that it was Andrew. She was wondering exactly what he was doing here, but she was both amazed and grateful when he got in between Justin and Duke and pushed them apart. He didn't look very strong to Viola, even though he was probably an excellent sportsman as well, but apparently he was, as he successfully kept them apart, even though she could tell he was strained.

"What the hell are you guys doing? Stop it!" Andrew yelled at them. "This is pointless! And Drayton, go back to your little sob school and stop trying to prove yourself, because it won't work!"

Viola was impressed. Andrew definitely made it onto her favorite persons list with his display here. How wrong she was about her first impression! When Andrew had watched Justin walk away (and far enough so he wouldn't punch anyone right away), she walked up to him. "Thanks, Andrew. Talk about good timing, huh? But seriously, thank you."

He looked at her, a little stunned that she was there. "Uh—yeah, no problem. Can't have Duke hurt for practice. Coach would have both our heads. Duke, you okay, man?"

Duke had a bloody nose and a bruise forming on his jaw, but otherwise he looked fine. "Y-Yeah, I'm fine." He said, a little breathlessly.

Viola maneuvered him over away from the crowd and towards a bathroom where she could help him get cleaned up. However, the last thing she saw before she turned around was Paul, Kia, and Yvonne coming up, Kia's eyes resting a little too long on Andrew than normal. Viola didn't think much of it, but it was still a little suspicious.

"Come on, Duke, let's fix you up." She said to him.

"Thanks." He replied, and while he attempted a smile, she gave him a sincere one as she continued to lead him across the grounds.

* * *

I believe this one is longer for you guys, and I hope there was enough (or at least a start of) Duke/Viola in there? I know this is only the fourth chapter, and don't worry it won't go too fast...even though it seems so now. I'm sorry for the wait, and thanks immensely to:

**WishingStar436****, BrookieCookie490, Babybee13, lovestoread, A9L9O8N7E, vicki86, Fairysky, forgottenMisfit, -xAxsxHxlxExyx-, princesscatie21, IloveDukeO, hanvu, geeekindork, and TAY.**


	5. Complications

**Revelations**

_Chapter Five: Complications_

* * *

It was late when Sebastian finally got into his dorm room, and he realized if he didn't want his roommate to get angry with him even before school started, he'd need to begin getting home before one in the morning. He was proud of being somewhat covert in his entering the room, but apparently he still wasn't used to the layout of the room as he tripped over his own guitar, hit the bedside table, and fell to the ground with a very _un-_covert crash.

Sebastian winced when he saw the light turn on, not only because he woke up Duke again, but also because the light only intensified the headache coming on. "Dude, where have you been? It's four thirty!" Duke exclaimed, tiredness not showing in his voice.

"Uh…nowhere. Sorry for awakening you…again," Sebastian apologized semi-sincerely, rubbing his hands over his face in weariness. If this was what the next year was going to be like, he almost wanted to reconsider his options.

Duke paused for a moment as if contemplating whether Sebastian's apology was truthful or not, but then either he was really tired and annoyed or just hated his roommate already. "Yeah, sure you are," Duke replied acidly. Sebastian frowned in confusion.

"Whatever," Sebastian dismissed jadedly. He walked over to his bed and flopped down upon it, not even bothering to unlace his shoes. He closed his eyes in exhaustion. He didn't really know _why _he was exhausted, but he'd figure out that mystery tomorrow.

"Look, man, it's freaking four in the morning! If you're going to crash into the room—literally—and wake me up when I have suicide practice tomorrow and classes, then you have to give me a damn explanation," Duke exclaimed.

Sebastian's eyes opened in frustration and he looked over at the guy he shared his room with, to see a fully pissed expression on his face. He could sense the irk emanating from Duke at Sebastian's not-quite-graceful maneuvers, but he really didn't want to talk about it. Instead, to get the spotlight off of him, he'd move it onto his roommate in hopes it would distract him long enough to forget about Sebastian's entry, at least until the next day…or, rather, later that day.

"Well what about you, hmm? You're acting all innocent here, when really you have some admittances to give to me, too. I saw you and my sister, Orsino, you'd better start talking," Sebastian smirked.

Duke's face gained a fine, slight shade of crimson as he turned his stare to the apparently fascinating ceiling, a low shadow from their bedside light cast upon it. "I don't know what you're talking about," Duke said.

Sebastian laughed in disbelief and humor. He enjoyed teasing his sister, that was common sibling rivalry, but when it concerned a possible romantic interaction between said family member and a person he knew, he granted himself full and unconditional harassing duties.

"Yeah, right. Like I'd believe that. I've known Viola her entire life, and if she didn't know you, she wouldn't have kissed you. I know that for a fact, even if the kissing booth was a clever disguise, because her shift didn't really start until like half an hour later. So let's try that excuse again, shall we?" Sebastian said in mocking derision.

Duke narrowed his eyes, still facing the ceiling, but Sebastian could feel a mix of not only irritation at him but also attempts to come up with something to say, not to mention embarrassment and the accurate feeling that he was backed into a corner. He hadn't _meant _for all this to happen, let alone have Viola's brother bust him, but he was presented with this calamity, and he'd have to manipulate his way out of it. He could try to turn the accusations around to Sebastian again, but somehow he doubted that would work. For one thing, Viola was Sebastian's flesh and blood, and whether he was possessive of her or not, he did have genetic "I'm-going-to-kick-your-ass-if-you-hurt-her" rights. He sighed in the catch-22 situation he was put in, still not really sure what he was going to say.

"Nothing happened, all right, if that's what you're insinuating," Duke started, figuring it might put Sebastian's mind slightly at ease, providing Sebastian wasn't doing this just to watch him squirm. "We just talked a little. We walked around the carnival and stuff then went out to play some soccer on the back field here. She's an amazing player, you know that? She's probably better than some of the guys on the team, to be honest with you."

Sebastian smiled in spite of himself at Duke's compliment of Viola. "Yeah, she's awesome. That twins being alike supposition, though, is completely untrue. I can't play soccer worth anything. I'm more into the music scene, myself."

Duke laughed briefly. "I never would have guessed," he replied sarcastically.

Sebastian glared at him. "Don't be a smartass. You still are on my list, you realize that, don't you?"

"List for what?"

"For people to kill or interrogate possibly with violent force if anything happens to my baby sister," Sebastian said with a deathly straight face.

Duke creased his eyebrows in suspicion and dubiety. "Um…okay, morbid much? And I thought you two were born like a minute apart; how is she your 'baby' sister?"

"That is so not the point," Sebastian retorted, knowing perfectly well Viola didn't really count as his 'baby' sister, as Duke so graciously pointed out.

"Oh. Sorry," Duke said sardonically, the dripping of which even the most oblivious person—say, for instance, Malcolm—could see.

"Yeah, sure you are. Listen, buddy," Sebastian started, getting into the protective regime already, even though he knew perfectly well Viola could more than take care of herself, "you lay an inappropriate hand on my sister and making your precious goals will be the _least _of your problems, understand?"

Duke sat up straighter in his bed, leaning now against the unwelcomingly hard headboard, staring intently at Sebastian and trying to fight off immense fatigue. He glanced at the clock, did a double take, and comprehended for the second time that night just how late it was. He groaned internally, thinking on how pissed his coach would get if Duke showed any signs of weakness or tiredness. The Illyrian head of soccer was a formidable man, and even though some could term Duke as formidable himself, even Duke didn't want to mess with his instructor. Especially if it meant his captainship or starting position. If he lost one or both of those, there was a high chance he'd never get them back.

"Okay, chill, dude. Now can you shut that light off? I'm getting a headache, which Coach won't tolerate," Duke said calmly, but unable to keep the irritation out of it.

Sebastian glared at him, but flicked off the device illuminating the room with little effort, plunging the room into darkness, Duke pulling on the nightstand light's plug, eliminating all shadows and glimmers of light except for the quiet, dim glow of the stadium lamps, kept on all night so people like Duke—and apparently Viola as well—could go out if they felt like having the field to themselves. Duke turned over, his back to Sebastian as he pulled the covers over his bare chest and rested down upon the pillow. Sebastian scoffed as he made his way over to his own bed, the rustling of his clothes indicating he was going to sleep himself, this time without knocking anything over.

"Damn soccer players…" Sebastian muttered, just loud enough for Duke to hear, who shuffled in his bed as if to confront Sebastian on it, but chose otherwise. As it was, the room housing two people vastly different from one another was finally thrown into silence as they both entered their own R.E.M. worlds.

* * *

"Viola! You're up!" a giddy, pleased voice came up to Viola as she reluctantly drug herself down the stairs.

"Mmm…" Viola mumbled, cringing at the shrillness of her mother's tone. She really didn't want to face her, and instead wished she could go back to sleep, a very unladylike yawn escaping her mouth. She ignored her mother's pursed lips.

"You'll never guess what I did today!" her mother continued, as if not missing a beat.

"Oh do tell." Viola said sarcastically, voice saturated with disdain and annoyance.

Her mother apparently noticed not. "I've got a meeting with the dressmaker for the ball today at three o'clock. It will be so, so, so very exciting!" she exclaimed.

"Well congrats, Mom. Do you have to end every sentence with an exclamation point?" Viola questioned, only half-joking as she blinked a few times, trying to rid herself of the unconsciousness of sleep attempting to take over once again. Not that she'd be opposed to it, but if she left now, she'd have hell to pay. Hell having the name of Daphne.

"No, no, silly!" Daphne continued, evidently not taking in Viola's plea for noiselessness and subdued emotions.

Viola finally trudged the rest of the way back down the stairs and into the kitchen. She reached into the refrigerator and grabbed the orange juice, pouring it into a glass. Looking over the rim of the bubble inlayed cup, she used her drinking as a valid excuse for not answering.

"It's for you! You, my little sweet girl! Oh, you're going to be _so _adorable!" Daphne said ebulliently.

Completely overwhelmed by a mixture of disgust and surprise, Viola choked on the juice she had just sipped, spitting it out all over the floor, causing her mother to back up a few steps to avoid being hit with the colored liquid, the fiasco not even marring the still ecstatic expression on her mother's face. Running her hand over her mouth to wipe away the sticky substance, Viola set the glass down on the marble counter, and, neglecting the mess on the floor, stared at her mother with an appalled and defiant look on her face, her hazel eyes fiery.

"You have _got _to be kidding me!" Viola cried out in denial. "There is no way I am going to some crackpot poser Vera Wang wannabe! I would rather cut off all of my hair, move to Tibet and join a monastery than submit myself to that violating torture!"

Viola's mother got an expression of pure shock and she placed her hand on her sequin-embroidered dress over her heart as if suffering heart arrhythmia. "You wouldn't dare! That hair is almost your only feminine aspect exploited and we must accentuate it! You cut it and you are grounded for life, and I will most certainly extract your membership of the soccer team!"

Viola rolled her eyes at her mother's melodramatics, though internally she almost wanted to laugh at her antics. Almost. "Oh, please, Mother. Get a grip. I've told you a gazillion times, and I will tell you this last time! I. Am. Not. Going. To. That. Pageant for clones!"

Her mother narrowed her ice blue eyeshadowed eyes at her daughter and outburst. "It is a _Debutante Ball, _Viola Jeanine Hastings! And you most certainly _are _going, if I have to drag you there kicking and screaming!"

Viola stared at her mother for a moment, scoffed, then downed the last of her orange juice, making a face at her parent before brushing past her to climb up the stairs again. She couldn't believe the circus her mother's obsession with putting Viola in a pretty-girl mold just like all the other people that had either joined or been suggested into it. Well, Viola, for one, was not going to join it, if it was the last thing she did. She paused at the landing at Daphne's high-pitched voice again, yelling at her, even though it was rather hard to take her seriously in not only her getup but her actions as well.

"Young lady, get down here right now! We are not finished!" she called up, her tone reverberating throughout the paneled great room.

Viola muttered an incoherent utterance before disappearing from her mother's view, throwing herself onto her bed in frustration. "Not…happening…" Viola grumbled to herself, burying her head in her zinnia-colored pillow. "Please tell me I'm dreaming."

She was disrupted by a shrieking output of her telephone, piercing the stagnant air that had previously only been interrupted by her mother's scoffs of outrage at her daughter's actions. Viola rubbed her head in the pillow another time, covering her ears, trying to drown out the ringing, but it didn't quite work. With another grousing, she reached blindly over to the handset, picking it up and successfully ceasing the disturbance. She brought it over to her ear lazily, her voice dull and unexcited.

"What do you want?" she snapped, not really caring who was on the other line.

"Do you greet all your correspondents this way?" her brother's voice came to her from the other end, crackling slightly as if he was on a payphone or the signal was not quite there.

"Hey, Sebastian," she said, mood uplifting somewhat substantially at her sibling's call. Sebastian somehow always managed to find a way to make something not suck as bad. "As bad" being the key words in that sentence.

"Now that's better. I mean, the better half of the Hastings twins shouldn't be put down that rudely, especially by his own genetics-sharing relative," Sebastian mused sardonically.

"Ha-ha," Viola replied, half-faking incense. "So what makes you phone here, exalted older brother of mine?"

Sebastian laughed, the effect of which being slightly muted by his dorm room and the connection of the phones. "Oh, just figured I'd see how my sister is doing, what with our dear mother being obsessive over you, again."

Viola grumbled at the memory and the apparent appointment her mother had made. "It sucks ass is what it is." Viola moaned.

"Aw, I'm sorry, sis," Sebastian said sympathetically, though Viola detected a hint of relief in his voice that it wasn't him having to go through the misery Viola was put through.

"Yeah, sure you are," Viola objected shortly. "While you get to hang out at the school with basically the nicest soccer stadium I've ever seen with shirtless hot guys and incredibly awesome dorm rooms, I'm stuck here in my shrinking, dank room with an impossibly neurotic parental spaz of chromosomes. So not fair. I think my karma is out of whack. Can I borrow yours?"

Sebastian chuckled heartily again at his sister's exaggerations. "Okay, first of all, ew. The last thing I need a visual on is my roommate. Second of all, no can do on the switching of karmas. I need all the good luck I can get," he said.

Viola lifted her head from the indented pillow, a look of intrigue and the beginnings of ability to make fun of her brother sliding to the front of her visage. "Ooh, who's the lucky girl?" she asked.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa, hold it, sis. Who said anything about a girl?" Sebastian inquired nervously.

"Well calm down, Sebastian, don't have an aneurysm there, buddy. Wouldn't want you to get too anxious when you talk to her," Viola said mockingly, unable to keep the smile out of her voice.

"Slow down, Viola! I never said there was a girl involved," Sebastian quieted, adjusting his hold on the phone to between his ear and shoulder as he tightened the strings on his guitar, preparing to write a new song.

"Come on, bro. Like you actually need to verbalize it? Face it; you're infatuated to say the least. Let me guess…Olivia? Yeah, that'll do it, I'm sure that's who. The way you were ogling and drooling over her at the carnival, that's got to be whom you're gaga about. Oh gosh this is good," Viola laughed, then a look of epiphany crowded her naturally beautiful face. "Wait…did you _kiss _her? I mean, Duke and I saw you go over there, but I didn't actually see it all…oh man I can't believe it."

Sebastian groaned into the phone, testing out a chord and writing it down on the sheet music paper he had, sticking the pencil between his teeth, which effectively impaired his speech, but he figured Viola would understand it. She was silent for a few moments, waiting for him to speak, but he didn't really know what to say, so instead he played another few notes, the twanging vibrations and music crossing the electrical line and entering Viola's ear.

"So what do you think?" Sebastian asked, trying to change the subject.

"I think you should go talk to her, duh," Viola said, as if it was the simplest thing in the world.

"Oh, okay, I—no, I meant about the song!" Sebastian stopped mid-sentence, hoping she hadn't caught his mistake.

"Yeah, sure you did," she said with a laugh, making Sebastian blush at the fact she did, undoubtedly, catch his slipup. "It's okay, bro, just go talk to her. She'll be receptive, seriously. As long as you don't make a complete fool of yourself like your, uh, interesting roommate there, you'll be just fine."

Sebastian sighed, though realized his sister had him where she wanted him. "Yeah, yeah, you're right. Well, anyways, I wish you the best with schizophrenic Mom, and I'll talk to you later?"

Viola nodded, even though Sebastian obviously couldn't see her. "You got it, bro. Good luck!" she exclaimed. "Oh, and just to be safe, I'd break up with Monique, aka the siren from hell, first, cause she might have a conniption about it. Considering she is, technically, still your girlfriend."

Sebastian paused, as if his brain was realizing this. "Oh, shit…you're right. Damn it. Yeah, I guess I have to do that. You do think I'm doing the right thing, right?"

Viola laughed, imagining the rough road her brother was getting into. "Definitely. Anyone's better than Monique. Just make sure Olivia doesn't think you're the readily cheating type, otherwise she won't be too eager to get into a relationship with you."

"Yeah, yeah, got it. Thanks, Vi. I'll see you later, hopefully I'll be all in one piece!" he exuded.

She grinned at her brother's issues and web he had weaved, but she knew he'd handle it one way or the other. "Bye, bro. Wish you the rest of my good graces!"

"Thanks, sis," Sebastian said, half-sarcastic. "See you later."

She waited a few seconds after the click sounded that indicated the connection with her brother was cut off, setting the phone down into its holder with a smile. She laid her head back on her pillow, eyes open this time, staring out the window at the gently rustling tree outside, pondering her life.

"Viola! Get your butt down here, now, young lady!" the same screeching voice came up to her, even through the closed door.

"Agh!" Viola exclaimed in vexation. "So not fair," she mumbled as she willed herself to get off of her bed and deal with the unfortunate reality that awaited her downstairs. "All right, mom, chill out!" she yelled downstairs as she headed towards her impending doom.

* * *

**All right, guys, I'm sorry, I truly, truly am, and I know I've waited longer to update this story than I had for Death Sat and Hell Followed, which is pretty amazing, since I had that story waiting for months and months, too, but I was sort of in a block on this one. Hopefully I did okay? If you have any suggestions, feel free to tell me.**

On that note, please leave me a review, they make me want to write more and brighten my day! I love you all, and I apologize once again. Until next time,

luvseanfaris

Individual thanks to:  


**vicki86, BrookieCookie490, A9L9O8N7E, Nikita1506, TAY **(I actually did see that movie, and I really liked it! Sadly, you're right, no scenes shirtless unfortunately…maybe next time?)**, HoLdInG hAnDs Is My FaVoRiT…:), hanvu, lovestoread, JasMiaka, XxNightGoddessxX, meminenotyou **(Don't worry…I have plans for her…haha)**, puppylove223223, Saucy-Duks **(jeez, that must've hurt! I'm sorry! Yeah, goalie is definitely tough, I was it for a few years, then I transferred to defense/midfielder…less crushing that way!)**, beauty7890102, rocketgirl1200, Timberlou22, Mrs. Dom Masbolle, .Bree.-JohnXTrishX4Ever-., charlieschikcmcsteamy, chocolate.poka.dots, chicflick, Lady Lilly1, litprincess** (yeah…don't worry, Eunice will be in here more, too…)**, VIX3N, RBDFAN, xbbygirl, Monica7725 **(I'm sorry for not updating, I truly am!!! I know how frustrating it is to have a story not updated in forever, and I am ashamed I entered that rank, but I am determined to work on it! If you have any things you want in this, don't hesitate to tell me!)**, Justice Hope Arianna, and Alaskan Chick. Thanks all of you!**


	6. Vicarious

**NOTE****: As you can see, my penname has changed from "luv sean faris" to "written in dreams". So, as you have gotten this alert from this new name, and as you will (hopefully) get further alerts, just remember it's the same story. **_**Thank you!!!**_

* * *

**Revelations**

_Chapter Six: Vicarious_

* * *

"What do you want _now_, Mom?" Viola mumbled, the hardwood flooring of the house permitting her voice, thankfully, to carry over the balcony and down to her mother.

"I believe I told you to come down here, young lady," Daphne condescended, her high heels' tapping not failing to recognize in Viola's senses.

"And I'm perfectly fine up here, thank you very much," Viola replied, really quite content where she was.

There was a fairly lengthy pause in which Viola, for a moment, thought she was off the hook, and thus collapsed into her pillow once again, mindlessly staring across at the apparently fascinating, whitewashed wall. Out of her peripheral vision, she saw her soccer ball, its familiar yet worn seams still effortlessly holding together the now grass-stained leather. It was a faithful ball; it had hardly ever needed to be refilled up with air, and the bounce was perfect, as if it were made specifically for her. And yet…for probably the first time in her life, she didn't feel like playing. Normally, no matter what time of the day or night it was, rain or shine, sick or healthy, furious or elated, she could go and kick the ball around. All her emotions would go into her playing, and the thoughts she was having at the time would just wisp away: it would be just her, the ball, and the grass.

But now, whether it was her mother's nagging or her brother's girl issues, or something entirely different, it had affected Viola's frame of mind. At this, she frowned, wondering what apocalyptical event must have occurred to have her feel this way. Viola Jeanine Hastings _not _wanting to play soccer? The thought was laughable! If someone had told her even minutes ago that statement, she would have thought they hit their head one too many times. She focused now on that ball, which, consequently, was right near her shoes and shinguards, as if their mere presence could inspire her to want to get up and play again. Unfortunately, that quite valiant endeavor failed to work. She rubbed her hands over her face, the spiderwebs of sleep still reluctant to fade away.

"What is wrong with me?" she mumbled vaguely to herself, not really expecting an answer, but yet almost disappointed she didn't get any divine solution. All she had to tell herself was that if this weird phenomenon didn't pass soon, she would be worrying about her own sanity.

* * *

Awakened mercilessly by the unmistakable sounds of zippers, Velcro, and throwing things around, Sebastian wearily opened his eyes, though if he had his way, they'd open hours later. Through his somewhat blurred vision, he saw his roommate tossing things into a black athletic bag; the actions of reopening and closing it, due to realizing he had forgotten something, Sebastian figured, accounted for the obnoxiously loud zipping. Apparently happy with his packing job, Duke proceeded to pulling on his shinguards, their Velcro's decibel level rather akin to the zippers'. Moving to his shoes and simultaneously searching the room for his ball, Duke was obviously ready for some massive showoff, or so Sebastian surmised.

"Orsino, what are you _doing_?" Sebastian asked finally, as Duke went over to behind the desk to retrieve his soccer ball.

"What does it look like I'm doing?" Duke snapped, hoisting, with some difficulty, the duffel bag onto his shoulder. "Soccer practice."

Sebastian frowned, looked at the glowing clock on the nightstand next to him, and groaned subconsciously. "But it's five thirty in the morning!" he grumbled, pulling the sheets over his head, wishing he could delve again into the realm of his dreams. "What the hell are you doing going to the pitch this early?"

"I told you; Coach has suicide practices. Today's one of them. Which is _why_," Duke emphasized, "I wasn't so keen on your arriving here like an hour ago. Yeah…ninety minutes of sleep? Not so much fun."

"Unh," was all the reply Sebastian gave, his voice muffled from his comforter. "But did you have to be so loud about getting ready? Not all of us want a militarized wakeup call, you know."

Sebastian grunted as a large, quite solid object that he soon assumed to be Duke's soccer ball compacted with his head. "Well, sucks for you then," Duke relished. "Too bad you got stuck with me, then. You'll just have to deal with it."

And without further exposition, Duke left, taking his ball again from Sebastian's bed, and letting the door slam with possibly more force than was necessary. Sebastian buried his head into his pillow, praying for sleep, but for at least the time being, it seemed he was being punished for something eh wasn't aware of. Groaning again at the looming probability he'd be in the unwanted state of awake-but-not-wanting-to-get-up for at least a few hours. And while he wasn't exactly fond of soccer, or of his roommate, for that matter, at this particular moment, he thought he'd rather be outside doing something to wake himself up than trying to convince himself he'd be better off sleeping. In Sebastian's mind, there was just something fundamentally wrong about people being up when it was still twilight outside and everyone else normal was sound asleep.

Duke himself, as he bounced the ball in the hallway, not caring if he disturbed anyone, was having nearly the same thoughts as Sebastian. While he thought his coach was one of the best players he'd ever had the chance to work with, he did have to admit that sometimes it got ridiculous. Now, for instance. Pushing the doors of his dorm open, he was hit with a ruthless blast of icy air, and immediately he wished he had thought to bring a sweatshirt. Trying to take his mind off the biting cold as shivers decided to overtake his body every few seconds, he decided to dwell on his life. Always a good pastime.

He started with his roommate, whom, even now, he wasn't sure what to make of him. It certainly had started out a tense meeting; in fact, it was still now. More than once he had wondered if the situation they were in would actually work out. Whether a soccer fanatic could room with a music zealot without breaking out in war. He blinked a few times, running his hands over his eyes in an attempt to wake up further—he wasn't necessarily a morning person—and proceeded to contemplate his predicament further. From the short time Duke had roomed with Sebastian, there had been a fair few nights or mornings where there wasn't a whole lot of sleep involved, particularly in Duke's case. Sebastian, apparently, liked to stay out quite late, and although Duke knew he meant well and didn't purposefully wake Duke rather violently, it didn't stop Duke from getting at least a little angry. While he wouldn't die from lack of sleep immediately, he did appreciate at least six hours of rest, if not more. Especially when he had an ominous, predictably tiring, practice coming up.

Speaking of Sebastian, Duke couldn't help but reside upon the thought of Sebastian's sister, whether that was Duke's conscious decision or not. Viola certainly was someone who was worthy of lingering over for possibly more moments than was necessary for other people. He wracked his brain to remember if Sebastian had mentioned her before Duke had heard her initial message on the answering machine or met her on the field, but he couldn't quite recall. It was possible that he did and Duke just hadn't filed it away, but perhaps if Duke had remembered, then seeing her wouldn't have been such a shock to him. He inwardly winced slightly at the no doubt faulty introduction he had made to her. He was fully aware that he wasn't the most spectacular at impressing the female race, however, that didn't mean that he wasn't embarrassed on more than one level. Internally—and possibly externally, for that matter—he desired to see her again, except for the fact that Sebastian happened to reside currently in the same room as Duke did. As Sebastian had beseeched harshly that very early morning, Viola was fairly off limits when it concerned Duke. Duke realized there was some core protection of a sibling wanting to watch out for his or her own family, but Duke wouldn't pretend it was a reasonably crushing blow that Sebastian had so openly rebuffed any attempt to romance his sister. And Duke, in interest of both self-preservation and general friendliness, would try his best to honor Sebastian's misgivings…on the other hand, if he had the chance to see Viola again, Duke wasn't exactly sure he'd pass it up. As mutinous or disobeying as Sebastian might feel it was.

These thoughts occupying the entirety of his mind at that moment, when he came out of it, he was honestly surprised to see that he had arrived at the sidelines of the soccer field already. Frowning slightly, a bit disconcerted as to how fast he seemed to get there, he looked around, and, seeing no one, felt both apprehension and annoyance rise through him. If he had somehow, by some means, not gotten the message that the practice had changed or cancelled and he had awakened at such an ungodly hour, there would be hell to pay.

However, no sooner had he thought this than he saw his two best friends coming towards him, their figures slightly distorted because of the mist rising up from the dewy grass, but their own respective soccer balls and athletic bags clearly visible. Once they saw Duke waiting there, they gave him a ridiculously annoying grin, but their expressions showed they hadn't had too much more sleep than Duke himself had had. For some reason, he felt an internal pride at this. At least he wasn't the only one that felt thoroughly rest deprived. Courtesy of Sebastian, Duke reminded himself again. Oh, that roommate would have to suck up so much to Duke in the future if he ever wanted himself to be forgiven. Maybe it was just the early hour that had Duke sour, but he thought that even the morning aside, Sebastian would frustrate him, for any reason, really.

"Duke! What's up?" Andrew said, his voice relentlessly happy, which, oddly enough, incensed Duke.

"'What's up'?" Duke repeated. "Are you kidding? It's _five thirty _in the _morning_! How can you have an _ounce _of joy?"

"Oh, come on," Toby interjected, his voice tired but demure. "You know just as well as Andrew and I that Coach has these sort of brutal, cruel practices once in a while. What, you're not adapted to early mornings?"

Duke glared at him through dark green but weary eyes. "I count this as nighttime, Toby…normally, I'd still be _asleep _at five thirty. So no, I'm not adapted to early mornings. Glad you are, because you and Andrew may just have to cover me, considering I may be less than competent to pl—"

"Now you all listen to me," Coach Dinklage said, his commanding voice echoing off the stadium's bleachers, the harsh tone piercing in the biting temperatures. "I want you to stretch for ten minutes, then run laps, understand? Any more than at the most six minutes per mile—four laps around this field—and you're adding an extra one…for _everybody_. And I don't want to hear any effeminate excuses about how 'early' this is or how cold you ladies are! Well, what are you waiting for? Get off your scrawny asses and do it!"

Duke barely stifled a yawned groan, knowing that their coach disapproved of any signs of weakness, but that's about all he felt as he could practically hear his muscles screaming at him as he bend down to the grass. Their green hue, usually in grandeur, seemed to be mocking him, considering he already felt like he was going to keel over at that very moment from muscle stiffness, exhaustion, or hypothermia, which he imagined he was getting now. He knew stretching before practices or games was a good thing, obviously, but that didn't mean he wouldn't almost like to get straight to running, as at least that would warm him up more. He looked over to Andrew and Toby, who, while they had a semblance of Duke's expression as well, they seemed more content with the demand than he did. Both wondering why he seemed to have less stamina this morning than they and why his coach had to schedule a suicide at the break of dawn, Duke vaguely wished he was back in his dorm room. Because now, he'd almost prefer Sebastian's snoring and annoying musician habits than sitting down on wet terrain and preparing to run expected less than six-minute miles. It was going to be a long day, that much was for sure.

* * *

Five hours later, Sebastian awakened, feeling a little worse for wear—Duke did, so unceremoniously, rouse him a few hours before, after all—but somewhat rested all the same. With a diabolical smirk, he envisaged how Duke must be feeling, being out in the impossibly cold and wet weather. He almost wondered if Duke was practically drowning himself in the showers after practice since he wasn't back yet, or simply if practice wasn't over yet, physically draining as that would be. Sebastian wasn't obsessed with the whole soccer scene like Duke and his sister was, but from them, he got the very distinct feeling practices weren't the most fun thing in the world to do. Especially not when the sun wasn't even up yet. Nevertheless, Sebastian almost desired a few more hours of sleep, just to either rub it in to Duke, or merely because he could.

But, as it was, he got out of bed—as much reluctance as he had for doing so—and shivered a little at the abrupt change in degrees from his warm blankets and the air conditioned room, though he walked over to his side of the closet and pulled on whatever seemed to be the cleanest, anyway. He made a mental note to bring laundry over next time he visited his mother's house. He wasn't completely useless when it came to washing clothes, but that didn't mean he enjoyed it, especially when he knew his mom would comply; it was in her nature as a maternal figure, he had acknowledged a long time ago.

Thinking of the house made him, by extension, come across the thought of his sister, who he knew would probably be having to put up with their mother any minute now. That was one good thing about going to school away from the house—he had certain luxuries that didn't come with living permanently with a parent. At that thought, he gave a small smile almost reminiscent of the one he did when he imagined Duke's status, but then that smirk turned into a large grimace as he remembered his and his sister's conversation the previous day. _Monique. _It was remarkable how much fear, trepidation, annoyance, and anxiety one name could produce, no matter with what inflection it was prescribed.

He knew it was by _far _the right thing to do, breaking up with her, especially when he had grown to not like her as much latterly, and had fallen quickly for Olivia, but that didn't mean he wanted to risk her wrath, not to mention his manliness by doing it. He had, on occasion, been the unlucky recipient of one of her temper tantrums of one thing or another, which were living agony by themselves, so he could only imagine her reaction when she found out he was ending things. Particularly if he actually told her the truth; told her he was crushing quite heavily on another girl—a response which he was rapidly thinking against saying. Needless to say, he hypothesized today wouldn't be one of his greater set of twenty-four hours. He winced at the ridicule and jokes at his expense when Viola found out he had, hopefully successfully, put an end to his relationship with Monique. While he was going out with her, he had endured many taunts from her, but he knew this would bring on an entirely fresh enclave of mocking from her. Sighing, he wandered with hesitant determination over to the phone, and, before he could stop himself, dialed Monique's cell phone, bracing himself for her reaction.

"Hello?" came the naturally acerbic answer. After a few rings had passed, Sebastian had foolishly gotten the hope that she wouldn't pick up at all.

"Hey, Monique," he said, trying to keep the disinclination out of his voice.

"Sebastian!" she screamed violently into his ear, so much that he had to hold the phone away from it to prevent permanent damage. "Where the _hell _have you been! I've been calling you for the past two days, and you have been purposefully ignoring me! What have you been doing if you haven't responded?"

"I haven't been ignor—oh…" Sebastian faltered. He had picked up his own cell phone, which had apparently been on silent, because when he looked at the screen, he found out he had thirteen missed calls and seven voicemails. He could only squirm as to whom they were from, and dreaded picking up the messages.

"Yeah, 'oh'," she said mercilessly, and Sebastian got the quick sense he was going to be in for a massive earful. "You know full well, Sebastian Hastings, that if you want to keep me in your life, you'd better be more reliable, get it?"

Sebastian bit back the riposte he had been forming and the desire to just break up with her right here, for she had given him a quite good sentence opener. "Oh, yeah, speaking of which," he said, steeling for her reply. "Can we meet up soon? There's something I need to talk to you about."

"Yeah, what could _that _be?" she answered, her tone more docile than it had previously been. Which could be a good thing or a cataclysmically bad one.

"It's kind of complicated," Sebastian settled. "Can I just, I don't know, pick you up in a few hours?"

"No, you damn well can't," she said acidly, and he sighed internally. He had been expecting this reaction, but he didn't want it, that was for sure. "I'm going to be at a dress fitting for the Ball from eleven to six tonight. After that I have the rehearsal dinner for it. So no, you cannot 'pick me up' as you so _eloquently _wanted."

Sebastian resisted slapping a hand to his forehead. "Oh, right, I forgot," he said honestly. "Viola has that, too, doesn't she? Rhetorical question," he added, remembering the requited animosity between his sister and soon-to-be-ex-girlfriend.

"Whatever," Monique said aristocratically.

"Well, can I just catch a ride with Vi and meet you there, then? I'm sure you're not busy the entire time," he said.

She paused for a moment, but he could practically feel her astringent replies forming and her high-pitched retorts, but Sebastian held his breath anyway. "Yeah, whatever," she said again, and Sebastian was forcefully prompted that it was her favorite catch phrase. One that often got on his nerves.

"Great," he said with fake enthusiasm. "Well, I'll see you th—yeah, bye to you, too," he said sarcastically into the phone as he was met with a click, signaling Monique's departure. "Oh, this'll be a _fabulous _day, won't it?"

* * *

"Mother, I refuse to look like a deranged monkey in heels. Which is the effect this sewing disaster of a dress will have on me," Viola seethed, holding up a supposed dress, which resembled more of a few pieces of fabric haphazardly stitched together, made, in Viola's opinion, by someone vastly colorblind. "And seriously? The huge bows are totally unnecessary. How can you even say this is _clothing_?"

Daphne had marched up the stairs not long after Viola had stared mindlessly at the wall, disrupting her from her depressed musings. The sight of her perturbed mother with her starched white shirt and skirt, stilettos tapping on the floor, holding a swathe of material that, after a few seconds' squinting examination Viola deduced it was made to resemble a gown. And, with subsequent horror, she realized her mother intended to _wear _said eyesore. At which she vehemently argued against.

"Viola," her mother implored, and her voice got dangerously low. Viola resisted the longing to sigh heavily—this was the tone that meant she was going to get a talking-to. "I realize fully you are resistant to becoming a flowering debutante and want to go in the way of manliness like your brother, but you must get over it. You are a beautiful young lady, and it is high time you act the part. This upcoming Debutante Ball is the perfect opportunity for a coming out of yours. And who knows…if you do well, you could truly get a magnificent place in society! I just want you to do well, Viola. And this can be your path."

"Mom…" Viola insisted once she was sure her mother was finished.

She appreciated—somewhat—Daphne's efforts to "help" her fit in, but she honestly had no problem with it. Daphne may have not approved of the sport of soccer, but, and as Viola had reiterated time and time again, she'd just have to deal with it. When Viola looked at herself in the mirror, she saw not a Cinderella wannabe, no semblance to Monique, but rather an ardent athlete. In fact, she had _nightmares _about that stupid Ball. There was nothing more absurdly humiliating that she could think of at the moment. Maybe her mother enjoyed watching her daughter be publicly embarrassed, but Viola wouldn't stand for it. If she had to kick and scream her way against this, she would gladly resort to such childish endeavors. At least then she'd be free from the hell about to be inflicted.

"Please, I can't do this. I _won't _do this," she continued, playing up the "innocent, daughter-to-mother pleading" routine. "Dress up just isn't my thing anymore, okay? Maybe if I was more, as you say, 'feminine', I'd be at least tolerant of it, but I'm just not, Mother. Don't make me do this."

Unfortunately for Viola, her mother was either immune to such begging or else was simply heartless, at the very least in this matter. Daphne was quiet for a moment, and Viola got semi-uneasy at the very noticeable look of her mother thinking. Usually never good. "Well, then," Daphne began slowly. Viola held back a wince. "I'll make you a deal."

"A deal?" Viola asked. Whatever she had expected her mother to say, an offer wasn't it.

"Yes," Daphne affirmed, a slight glow coming over her face, perhaps from her daughter not yelling right away. "If you provide a good effort into this Ball, this coming out ceremony, and you do not make a suitable impression, I will not make you do it again, although I don't promise not to do so for small galas or luncheons. If you _do _make a respectable influence on the ladies of the court, then you must participate in a few more events, without your usual constant complaining. Do we have a compromise?"

Viola was about to make some acidic, acerbic retort to her mother, but something caused her vocal chords to fail, and she was stuck with silence, her brain forced to mull it over. While her first thought was to adamantly refuse—what kind of "compromise" was her mother even suggesting?—her now horrendously annoying conscience was telling her to actually consider it. Originally it had seemed outright unappealing, but now it appeared to conceivably to have a few ounces of merit. After all, what would the harm be in following through with it?

_Only endless communal derision! _Her objective screamed.

_Well, yes, _her other half replied serenely. _But then again, it could possibly be lucrative…physical contempt towards Monique…a chance to have Mom stop patronizing and harassing to continue with this…you might as well try it. If nothing else than to prove her wrong. It won't kill you._

_Want to bet?_

But, before Viola could argue internally with herself too much further, her mouth did the decision for her. "All right. If I have to," she said, almost instantly regretting the words as they came out. Had her decision just set an apocalypse on her dignity and self-pride?

"Fantas—"

"But just to be _clear_," Viola exhorted. "You won't give me crap if I do, as I predict, make a fool of myself, and I'd never have to have anything to do with this flimsy beauty pageant mockery. And if, by some change in the Earth's spinning axis and life as we know it, I survive the debacle, and you force me to be coerced into more allured fiascos, I'd get to choose them. The least mortifying ones. And _no _exceptions?"

The wide, Cheshire-like grin that spread across her mother's face made Viola grimace in the scintillation of it. She _detested _that smile. "Oh, yes, yes of course!" Daphne trilled shrilly. "This is just going to be the dandiest presentation since I don't know when! My daughter, the prize of society! You will just be—"

"Enough! I said I'd do your stupid Ball if only to save me your endless happiness, but I never agreed to expositional digressions on your part! So shut it!" Viola exclaimed, her temper rising quickly.

Now, if she had debated this issue before, she was _definitely _beginning to think this was the end of Viola Hastings as everyone knew her. Taking in her mother's still gleeful grin, Viola had the sudden desire to smother herself with her inadvertently lacy pillow. Her life had quite possibly taken a turn for disaster. She didn't know of Sebastian's or Duke's dilemmas yet, but in her mind, nothing could be worse than, as she considered it, selling her soul to the Dolce & Gabbana-wearing devil. She sighed, not bothering to hide it. All she knew was that if she didn't get some serious benefit further on in her day, she couldn't promise she wouldn't strangle the next person that crossed her path. Sure, this ball-and-chain debutante thing might not be world-ending, but all Viola knew was that if someone had told her, or anyone else for that matter, that she'd made a deal like this, they would be admitted straightaway into the psych ward of the nearest hospital.

She didn't know exactly what she'd do about it, but she knew she'd have to find the silver—well, maybe gray—lining of this. After all, she'd been making fun of this pageant-Ball charade for so long that now she was constrained into actually doing it, she could act on some of the scenarios she had envisioned so violently in her head. Maybe, she mused hopefully, this wouldn't be such a bad thing after all.

* * *

**Sorry for the long wait, everyone! I believe this chapter was longer, and although I know there wasn't any Duke-Viola action, or any Eunice, there will be next chapter, I swear! I just needed to get some things set up first. Hopefully the next update won't be as long to come. Review, please!**

**Thanks to…**

**Puppylove223223, beauty7890102, cam-is-hot, vicki86, John cena punk princess, Mrs. Dom Masbolle, Glovesm, Xx3.BusyGrlsLifeX3.14, cutiek88, NatASHA, Nicole Kathrine, GilbertDrone328, and bangelluvforever.**

**Love you all!!!**


	7. Entanglement

**Revelations**

_Chapter Seven: Entanglement_

* * *

Sebastian was still lying face down on his bed, musing depressingly over his upcoming meeting with Monique. While she wasn't necessarily physically intimidating, she had a mouth on her that made anyone cringe. He desperately tried to remember how in the world he had come to go out with her, but it was a little hazy as to what exactly went on. Wracking his brain, he came up with pieces of a memory, something having to do with either a dare or a simple moment of stupidity…at some bar or restaurant where you could go up and play whatever music you wanted to…Monique was there and he said some cliché sort of line and she fell for it…was he drunk? Honestly, he couldn't remember. Regardless of what cataclysmic event occurred, he knew now that he was attached to her in a vice-like hold, and he'd need some serious collateral in order to preserve himself. 

He was interrupted in his failing attempts to come up with a breakup that wouldn't end with him being decapitated or maimed when the door opened. He shifted a few inches so his eyes could see who it was, and when he saw his roommate, he stuffed his head back into the pillow. A few minutes later, there was another bed creaking, and he realized Duke had collapsed onto his own bed.

"What happened to you?" Sebastian asked, but he had a feeling Duke had no idea what he had said, considering his words were indistinguishably muffled in his pillow.

"Huh?" Duke questioned half-heartedly, vague sounds of Velcro and shoes being ripped off, though much slower than they had been a few hours ago. "I'm pretty sure what you just said wasn't in any language coherent to man."

Sebastian moved again, freeing his head from the bedding, and the sudden influx of oxygen caught him off guard for a minute. "Yeah, sorry," Sebastian muttered, wishing he could bury his head again. Somehow that had seemed to help with his nearly inescapable predicament. He frowned, taking in Duke's frazzled and worn out appearance again. "What, did you go to soccer practice or get in a fight?"

"I think I'd prefer the latter," Duke mumbled, laying back into his own blue-striped comforter and pillow after extracting his shinguards, socks, and cleats, which he had thrown rather haphazardly onto the ground. "Coach was brutal today."

Sebastian had a retort ready, something along the lines of 'well, duh. You did have a suicide practice at five in the morning and are on the Varsity team', but he refrained, considering Duke looked literally like hell. "Sorry," Sebastian commiserated, though he wasn't sure it sounded completely legitimate.

"And you?" Duke said, voice muffled, like he was trying to move as little as possible. "You don't look so great yourself."

Sebastian groaned, not wanting to be reminded of the abysmal beating he was in for later today. Honestly, if he hadn't wanted to get out of the relationship so impossibly badly, he would have just given up and ignored his sister's smirking jokes at his expense. "I'm breaking up with my girlfriend," he said simply, and Duke made a noise Sebastian assumed was supposed to be understanding. "She's a bitch, to put it simply, or, rather, to put it in Vi's words. Let's just say she's the vainest, prissiest, most annoying person I've ever met. And now I get to meet her in a few hours at this Ball thing that she and Vi have; I'm not looking forward to it."

Duke sat up, supported by his pillow and headboard. "Wait…if she's so bad, why'd you go out with her in the first place. That was pretty ill thought out, roomie," Duke said, fighting a small grin.

Sebastian scowled miserably. "Well I'm glad _someone _finds it humorous," he said darkly. "And I actually don't really know how I came to be her boyfriend, to be honest. But I suppose a torture and quite possibly a bruising from a well-placed slap is a small price to pay for the advantages I'll get from breaking up with her. Probably the most lucrative being no more taunts from Vi. She's the most incorrigible person sometimes. It rather sucks to be her brother at times like these, let me tell you."

There was a slight, almost unnoticeable, tinge that appeared in Duke's face at the mention of Sebastian's sister, but it started to fade before Sebastian could truly call him on it. "So, uh," Duke began, sounding nonchalant. "What's this Ball thing? I mean, what's so important about it? And why would your sister be in it? She seems the least likely to want to be in something as your girlfriend-ish like a dance."

"That's true," Sebastian said, grinning a little. "But from what she'd told me, Mom made a deal with her that if she went to this dance thing and made a good impression, then Vi would never have to do anything else pertaining to the Junior League pageants or whatever anymore. Truth be, I was surprised Vi agreed to it, but then again she's anything but predictable."

Duke was silent for a few moments, his face looking more pensive than Sebastian usually anticipated from him. It was now Duke's turn to be feeling a little between surprise and intrigued. Sebastian had gotten one thing right—Viola _was _anything but someone whose actions could be accurately anticipated. For a fleeting second, Duke wondered what would have happened if he hadn't even met Viola to start with; had just heard of her as Sebastian's sister. Would he have felt the same way about thinking her capriciousness was unusual for the girls he'd seen, and, dare he think it, attractive? Somehow, he doubted it. He set his jaw, pondering his current, rather twisted, situation. There were so many variables, so many people involved, so many things that could be affected. Viola being Sebastian's little sister, for one. That made it slightly more difficult. Olivia could be a factor as well, he mused faintly.

Much as he had thought of Viola, he still couldn't lose all of his feelings for the girl he'd liked since freshman year. There was still that quirk about her that he liked and that set him a small blush every time he noticed it. And yet—here he got an unusual frown—Sebastian was taken with her as well. Would he be willing to just forget her allure to him? Would he be able to just ignore her every time they passed each other in the halls, every time they had Anatomy class together? They weren't lab partners, which could have made it slightly easier, considering he wouldn't have had to converse with her every day, but he hypothesized he still wouldn't be able to just pretend she wasn't there and not sneak covert glances at her every so often. Better yet, what would Andrew and Toby think? He hoped they would think Viola was a good alternative, but knowing them, they'd find someway to make fun of him and give sarcastic jibes at him whenever a prompt came up in conversation. Andrew was lucky that he didn't have his sights on anyone at the moment—it made it not very easy to mock him.

Although, Duke reminisced, he was looking a little friendly with the girl he met at the carnival. Duke smiled facetiously. He didn't know the girl's name, but he had glimpsed her talking to Viola in a way that indicated they were friends, or at least acquaintances. He wasn't sure whether Andrew had made contact with her after that day, but he'd find out one way or the other. Which would mean, he thought with another small grin, he'd have to see Viola again to do so. Well…there wasn't anything wrong with simply _talking_ to Sebastian's sister, was there?

"So when did you say that dance was again?"

* * *

"Viola Jeanine, where do you think you're going?" 

Viola rolled her eyes, stopping once again at the bottom of the stairs. Her mom cast a wary eye on the familiar soccer ball perched against Viola's side as well as the cleats gracefully tossed over her shoulder, bits of grass stuck to the bottom. Her carefully made-up lips pursed, arms crossing amusedly across her starched lavender outfit. Viola resisted a smirk, or at least a snicker, at her mom's reaction. Hey…her mom had made the deal—it wasn't Viola's fault she'd found a beneficial loophole in it.

"Soccer field. Where else?" Viola responded with a tone of simpering indifference.

"I don't think so, missy," Daphne said superiorly. "You made a promise, young lady; I trust you remember it?"

"Of course I do, Mother," Viola said smarmily. She switched her ball to her other side, her mom's eyes following the movement. "You said I had to make the judge people happy, which I agreed to. I did not, however, agree to get ready for it, what, like, six or whatever hours beforehand. Thus, I can go wherever I please until that time. You never specified what I can do in between your sanctioned events."

Something flashed in Daphne's eyes, and Viola found herself pleased at her mother's lack of response, meaning Viola's words were carefully registering in her brain. Viola cast her mom a cheeky smile, walking up and giving her a sycophantic pat on the shoulder, fully noticing Daphne's still silenced speech. She vaguely heard a small spluttering as she turned around, making her way across the voluminous hall and out the door. It wasn't all that far to Illyria from her house—two miles at most—and she figured she'd just walk it, if anything else than to be alone with her thoughts. Heaven knew she had a lot of them.

She bounced her ball a few times, perhaps more forcefully than was necessary, considering the pavement hadn't done anything to perturb her, but she needed something to vent. Right now was not the first time she'd questioned her life and how she got into situations like this. She supposed her mother had always been into the whole debutante thing, wanting a daughter just so she could show her off like a dog in a tournament. But Viola had gone the athletic route—where she'd gotten that gene, she had no idea. Sebastian was the creative, artsy one; her mom was, well, she couldn't really describe her mom, but sporty wasn't part of it; her dad was more of a polo or racquetball sort of man, soccer, basketball, football, or the like not really his thing. She hadn't really known her grandparents too well, and her parents were both only children, so she couldn't compare skills to any aunts, uncles, or cousins. As far as she could surmise, she was a biological anomaly.

Not that she didn't appreciate it, she did, irrefutably. But that didn't mean it didn't come back to bite her in the ass occasionally, now being one of those moments. Sometimes she just wished her life was simple enough to be summed up in a few words, but it was anything from being simple. Especially as of late. She was only glad that she still had soccer to release her thoughts on, whether in practice or by herself. Sadly, Yvonne and Kia weren't usually available to go put in extra casual scrimmages with her, as they apparently had some event to go to or else their parents didn't want them out after a certain time. Viola scoffed at this. Something about that just wasn't right; while her parents were sticklers sometimes, they weren't so bad that she couldn't go out after six at night. As long as she didn't violate her tentative midnight curfew, they were fine. Unless, of course, there was some "mandatory" Junior League thing to go to, in which her mom wanted her back earlier than that.

She pounded her ball again against the cracked concrete, hardly noticing where she was going, but her feet evidently knew where to step, since her mind was elsewhere. Before too long, and a fair few mental digressions later, she found herself in front of the Illyria backlot, close to the soccer pitch. She stopped, somewhat surprised that she was there already. It had seemed just seconds ago she had left her house, but she knew she was further away than she thought she was. She sighed in indifference, dropped the ball to the ground and chipped it as hard as she could, trying to release some of her frustration into the kick. She watched, less pleased than usual, perhaps, as the ball soared through the air, going from Viola's position at one of the corners of the field to a little past the half-line.

Trudging—she was perplexed at this…when it came to soccer, she never trudged; this was a first—onto the field, not even stopping to exchange her sandals for her cleats, she smelled the freshly mown grass, the wetness from a recent watering coating her feet. But she didn't much care; she had other things to think about than a little water on her ankles. Finally making her way over to her ball, which was equally wet, she dribbled it only a few inches in front of her as she walked towards the goal, not really aiming anywhere.

Judging by her current activity, she wasn't even sure why she made the effort to go all the way to Illyria's field. She wasn't doing much of anything; just randomly edging the ball around, with little enthusiasm. As much excitement as she had exuded when she'd been staring at the wall absentmindedly earlier today, she realized. She paused, trying to fit reasons into this strange behavior, but it was like attempting to stuff puzzle pieces into their wrong slots—futile and making you feel even stupider than you were when you started. Sighing, she rolled the ball onto the space in between the top of her foot and her ankle, and volleyed it up into the air, watching it's ascent then drop downward, and caught it idly in her hands, giving it a little spin.

"Oh, this is so depressing," she mumbled to herself. "I'm worse than Sebastian. And that's saying something."

"I've heard otherwise," a voice came to her.

She whirled around towards it, having jumped a fair distance, not expecting to hear someone; she certainly hadn't noticed a new presence. She stared at the newcomer, trying to place him, but she couldn't. He was intimidating, she could see that already, and his accent didn't help things. Seeing his practiced-looking stance and the way he seemed to be assessing her playing skills, she was half-tempted to think this was some soccer coach, presumably Illyria's. The things she didn't understand were the reason he was here, and why he would have approached her at all.

She found her mouth speaking, although the words were less than impressive. "I—uh—can I—who are you?" she stumbled, wincing at how ungrateful she sounded, despite her curiosity, and not being sure _why _she was feeling ungrateful. What did he have to offer?

"Coach Dinklage," he said briskly, a tone of slight annoyance in his voice. Yes, definitely not someone to mess with, Viola mused.

"And, um, what exactly would you want with me?" Viola continued, trying to firm her voice in an effort to keep it not as unintelligent.

"It's come to my attention that you have above average football tactics," he said, and viola took a second to realize that when he said football, he meant soccer. Sometimes it was confusing to be American, to say the least. She took in his mirthless facial expression, and assumed he was less than appreciative of her half-assed efforts.

"Really? Who would have told you that?" Viola asked, but then kicked herself.

There was only one person at Illyria—save for Sebastian, who was too caught up in his own Monique-and-Olivia issues and music to care about her own problems—that had seen her play. The only question this time was why he had told his coach about her. Was there even a _point _to do so? Firstly, she was from Cornwall. Secondly, she was a girl. She was on _Cornwall's girls' team_. What relation could she have to an Illyrian soccer team, no matter how good she was? She'd seen them play—they were talented. Talented, in this case, being a vast understatement. Compared to some of them, she doubted she'd even match the second-stringers, provided they were any bit as adept at soccer playing as the starters.

She stared up into Coach Dinklage's face, determined to keep her expression stoically curious, but not sure she was succeeding. He ignored her 'who' question, which she was somewhat glad for. "Now you tell me if my venture out here was for nothing, because I have better things to do than watch a remarkably incompetent sportsman waste my time."

Viola, in spite of herself, felt a rise in offense at his words. What did she do to deserve his contempt? She was just standing here! Why did he even come down here in the first place? "With all due respect, Coach Dinklage," Viola started, trying to keep the ire out of her voice. "Was there a separate reason you actually came to talk to me? First of all, how'd you know I'd be down here, and secondly, what do you _really _want with me? How, pray tell, would I even be of use to you?"

He was quiet for a moment, his icy glare starting to unsettle her. After a few minutes, he gave a curt not, which she wasn't sure was a good sign or not. "To answer your first question," he said stiffly, and she had a feeling he wasn't one for polite exposition. "one of my men saw you come onto the field, and apparently recognized you as someone Duke Orsino, you've met him I presume, had described. It seems you've been admired of your talent, although from what I see, you've got the skills of Potensky—not impressive in the least, Miss…"

"Hastings." Viola said, pressing her lips together. He certainly wasn't one to be uplifting, nor was he one to be inspiring for someone to bend to his will, despite his aptitude for inspiration. "Okay, look, Coach Dinklage," she continued, resolute on speaking her mind. She imagined she might not be as obstinate if he was her coach, but since he wasn't and she wasn't used to him, she felt she was entitled to some insolence. "I came down here to play soccer, no matter what you think it looked like, and if you're just going to stand there and insult me, then I'll leave, if that's what you want. But if you actually have something to say to me, then I'd suggest you do so quickly, because I'm not one for unnecessary extrapolations. All right?"

He looked at her like she was the weirdest girl on the planet, or the most irksome girl he'd ever met. Or the weirdest _and _most irksome girl to ever exist. She didn't really mind much, but his renewed silence, she had to admit, was a little unnerving. Finally, his face set into a harder, controlling expression, which was almost better than before, as she assumed this was closer to what he normally looked like. He seemed to be mulling over what he was going to say—a feat she surmised he usually didn't have to do—then voiced either those thoughts, or some rendition of.

"We have practices every day except weekends, Hastings," he said gruffly, and she noticed how mundane and practiced her name sounded when he said it; like he had called it quite a few times in practices or games. Which, of course, was ridiculous as she'd never met him face-to-face before now. "If you're actually going to be serious about this, you'd better show up tomorrow at noon. Otherwise, don't bother. Understand?"

"Now you wait just a moment, Coach," Viola interjected, not exactly meaning to imply that he was her instructor already. _"Serious about _what_?"_

Dinklage didn't reply, but instead picked up her ball and thrust it into her chest so hard she felt the wind knocked out of her and thus was rendered unable to speak. "Noon, Hastings."

He stalked off, leaving her there, gaping and gasping after him. Who did he think he was? Coming up to her like she was just one of their more ineffective players and insulting her like that? This would not be the end of this now even more complicated aspect of her life, that much she was sure of. He had gotten almost to the stairs leading back up to the school, when she glowered at the complications of this. Oh, there would be hell to pay, she would make sure of that.

* * *

"Duke Orsino, get your scrawny ass here now!" Viola screamed through the door of room 234, not caring that she was disrupting the semi-at peace hallway. 

Duke, who had dozed off unknowingly, abruptly awakened by the apparently ceaseless poundings on his and Sebastian's door. He blearily looked over at Sebastian, whom eh wasn't sure was asleep or not, but his head was still buries in his covers. Duke withheld a laugh—he'd never really had a girlfriend to the horror level Sebastian had described, but he'd had some whose breakups he wished could be erased from his memory.

Mostly asleep still, Duke dragged his aching body across the room, opened the door, only to nearly be run over by a livid Vila. "Did I do something?" he asked confusedly, not sure whether it was pure misunderstanding or if he missed something in his half-conscious state.

She stormed past him into the room, her hair slightly starting to come out of her carefully pulled back ponytail . she cast an annoyed glance at her brother, who hadn't stirred. Duke shut the door, sensing a yelling session was about to befall him. "You sent Dinklage after me!" she cried wildly, and he winced, though he wasn't really sure why. "Why in the name of Zinédine Zidane did you tell him about me? Now he wants me to go _watch _your guys' practice! You'd better call it off, understand, Orsino? Or is that too difficult a concept to grasp?"

Now Duke thought that was a little below the belt, even for her. It took him a little bit to realize what lines she was thinking along, but once he did, he sighed in resignation. "First of all, Vi," he said, then color flooded his cheeks as he acknowledged his mild mistake. Technically, he felt he wasn't close enough to her yet to be referring to her as a nickname, but she didn't react. He cleared his throat. "I did not send Dinklage to go after you, so if you could back off on that account, I'd be much appreciative. Secondly, I told him about you because—"

He cut off, a slight tinge gracing his cheeks, but he hesitated for a few more moments, to Viola's irking. "Because what?" she demanded.

"Because you're a damn good soccer player, Viola, and I wouldn't be surprised if you were better than some of the people on my team, all right?" he said, not necessarily meaning to be so incensed. "I'm sorry if he actually listened to me and wanted to see you play…"

His sarcastic and yet strangely complimenting tone shocked her. He wanted Dinklage to watch her skills? What exactly was that meaning? "What do you—?"

Duke sat back upon his bed, rubbing his hands over his face, not to rid himself of the last dregs of sleep, but because he now had to deal with what he'd just said. "I mean," he began slowly, ignoring Viola's impatient yet curious stare. "that maybe he was looking to—you know—well, I don't know exactly—I don't know, maybe let you try out."

"T-Try _out_?" Viola spasmed. This was ridiculous. What he was saying was ridiculous. First of all she was a girl. Second of all, she didn't go to the school. Thirdly, _she was a girl. _What was Dinklage or Duke playing at?

"Nevermind, it doesn't matter," Duke mumbled. "It had just been a thought. Listen, uh, I have to go to Chem class and I have to get changed, so if you don't mind…?"

Viola's arms crossed, and for a moment, a look of hurt passed through her face; Duke sighed again, although this time she didn't hear it. "Yeah, sure, of course," she said, tone dull and indifferent. "Well…I'll…see you around, I guess."

"Yeah," Duke said noncommittally, not quite meeting her eyes.

"Okay then," Viola said stoically, walking purposefully out of the room. Duke sighed.

_Is there some _reason _I suck so much at this? _Duke thought miserably, throwing himself down on the bed again. He figured he was entitled to some wallowing.

* * *

"DAMN IT!" Viola expressed violently, hurling her soccer ball at the wall, not surprised to see a black streak appear on the cream paint. She found she didn't much care. 

Before long, the familiar yet unwanted sounds of high heels clicking wildly upon the hardwood floor reached her ears, finally coming to rest outside her door. "Viola Hastings! What in the world—?"

Her mother had spotted the black spot, and her face turned an interesting mix of red and white. Viola exhaled, trying to control her breathing and heart rate. "I've had a bad day," Viola said through gritted teeth.

"That is—that is just no—that is no excuse, young lady!" Daphne sputtered, not sure what to make of her daughter's actions.

"Are you going to ground me? I mean, I'd just _hate _to have to stay home from that dinner crap," Viola said, a little too eagerly.

"Hardly!" Daphne exclaimed, voice a few levels up from usual. "You get dressed right now, Viola, or so help me—"

Daphne didn't need to finish the sentence for Viola to fill in the blanks. Her mother wasn't exactly the most intimidating person, but Viola did know full well that her mother, thanks to her and Viola's compromise, had complete control over how much torture Viola had to go through concerning the debutante charade. Viola, picking up her ball from the floor, pressed it hard against her head, sitting down on her comforter, praying for patience.

"But _Mom_," Viola whined, testing out the pleading approach. It didn't work.

"Get dressed now!" Daphne shrilled, face turning more crimson now than white. Daphne picked up the turquoise dress from Viola's bureau that she was supposedly supposed to wear, and tossed it onto Viola's lap.

The fact that Daphne hadn't treated the dress like it was some Heaven-sanctioned object was a mark of her complete frustration and horror. Viola clenched her jaw, watching her mother stomp out of her room. Gracefully, of course. Closing her eyes for a moment then opening them again, she held the dress out in front of her, perusing it and preparing herself to wince. Surprisingly, however, she acknowledged that the dress wasn't as bad as it perhaps could have been. It wouldn't have been her first choice, that was for sure, but compared to her mother's other decisions, this one was rather decent. There weren't any frills or bows for a change, the color wasn't garish, and it was slender enough, given the absence of the huge skirts and sleeves that normally adorned Daphne's garments. Viola scrunched up her face in a half-grimace, before resignedly stripping down and slipping on the dress, tousling her hair in what she attempted to be a stylishly mussed arrangement. She wasn't sure it was the best job she could have done, but for the time being, it would have to work.

She looked in her mirror, unsure what to make of herself. She didn't look half bad, she admitted that much, but it sure was a change from her usual athletic-attired self. "Well, here goes nothing," Viola muttered, slipping on her shoes and laboriously exiting her room.

* * *

"Oh come on, Sebastian," Viola implored, referring to her brother's reluctance to get out of the car. 

She herself hadn't been the most inclined to face the horrors she was about to endure, but she really didn't see what Sebastian had to worry about. Sure, he had to approach Monique and all her beautified wrath, but at least that was the worst he had to suffer through. Viola, on the other hand, had to follow all of this through without a hitch. In a most unladylike fashion, she grabbed Sebastian's hand and pulled him unceremoniously from the car, perhaps his not expecting her to do such an action resulting in her ability to do so.

"_Vi," _Sebastian whinged. Viola rolled her eyes—the sight of her over-six-foot brother complaining to his substantially shorter sister was quite a comical sight.

"Chill out," Viola said harshly. "You're fine. Stop being such a baby."

"I resent that!" Sebastian said in mock outrage. "You have no idea what horrible misdeeds she's capable of."

Viola snorted loudly, attracting a few looks from the significantly better behaved girls around her, but she ignored them. "Please," Viola said, waving him off. "Firstly, I _do _know what that bitch—I'm not apologizing, so don't make me—can do, and secondly, you're being a wimp. It's only a breakup for goodness's sake. Suck it up, bro."

Sebastian grimaced at her, but didn't say anything. They waited for a few moments while Daphne went to either socialize or find some registrar or the like, Sebastian nervously glancing through the sparse crowd for any sight of his psycho soon-to-be-ex-girlfriend. Viola snickered at him, starting to really get irritated with her dress. It wasn't a bad one, she admitted to herself, but it was just unnatural to her, and she just desperately wanted out of it.

"Come on, you two!" Daphne's voice approached Sebastian and Viola, and they both made identical scowls, but followed Daphne anyway, weaving through the numerous poles and people until finally reaching a spacious hall filled with rounded tables.

Viola whimpered. It was the picture of formality, the white tablecloths pristine with their matching, fashioned napkins and decorated porcelain, delicate streamers placed at odd locations around the room, a podium at the front to house someone Viola knew she wouldn't appreciate. She vaguely noticed nameplates at each place setting, but she was too affrighted to look for her own. With her luck, she'd be situated next to, God forbid, Monique. And, Viola knew, if Monique was near unbearable already, post-breakup Monique would be simply formidable and insufferable.

"Oh, _Viola, _sweetie!" Daphne called again, not quite gently pulling Viola by her arm farther into the room. More people were filing in, and Viola didn't recognize hardly any of them, but then again, she'd never really paid attention. "You're over here. Next to Monique and Olivia! Look, dear Olivia is already seated there. Why don't you mingle?"

"Could I?" Viola said, voice saturated with sarcasm. Sebastian laughed at it, but apparently Daphne missed the derisiveness.

Viola looked over, and, had she been drinking something, would have choked. She looked to Sebastian, who had followed her line of sight, his eyes widened in shock. "It-It's _Olivia_," he accentuated, and Viola held back a snigger.

"Yes, dear Olivia," Viola mocked. Sebastian would have hit her, had it not been for his preoccupation with staring. Finally, she hit him upside the head, harder than was probably necessary. "Get a grip, Sebastian. Standing there with your mouth hanging open isn't the best way to pick up a girl."

Sebastian promptly shut his mouth and turned back to his sister, but cast a few last furtive glances in Olivia's direction. Viola started to say something, but then looked over Sebastian's shoulder, and saw the familiar but undesirable form of Monique, her styled dark hair looking as elegant as her dress. Unfortunately, the disgusted, haughty look plastered on her face didn't quite complete the ensemble, making her overall appearance clash with each other. Viola smirked, her smugness overpowering her own distaste.

"Oh look who it is," Viola simpered to Sebastian, and his head whipped around, color draining from his face. "Well, go _talk _to her, you moron."

She pushed him forward, into Monique's eyesight, and she gave an exaggerated good luck to him that he interpreted—correctly—to be wholly fake. Viola laughed, then made her way over to the table, sitting next to Olivia, but not making conversation. Her mother hadn't said anything about actually making _acquaintances _at this gala event. Far as Viola could tell, silence was the best answer.

"Sebastian! Where have you been?" Monique's high voice pierced Sebastian's ears as he came to a stop in front of her. He made a mental note to strangle Viola when they got home.

"M-Monique, I need to talk to you," Sebastian stuttered.

Monique looked as though she'd scratch him or something, but then conceded, much to Sebastian's surprise. "What is it then?" she asked roughly.

As gently as he could, he led her over to a semi-secluded corner, where there weren't too many people congregating. "It's about us," Sebastian started slowly.

Monique's eyes narrowed. "What _about _us?" she asked, voice dangerously low.

He took a deep breath, realizing with a sinking feeling that the best way to do this would be to do it as fast as possible. Get her fury over with quickly. "I think we need to break up."

There were a few moments before Sebastian's words seemed to register, and for those seconds, Sebastian actually thought he was home free. That was, however, before her temper won out. "WHAT?!" she yelled, and Sebastian winced. So much for subtlety. "You're breaking _up _with me?!"

"Y-Y-Yeah," Sebastian murmured, unable to escape the stares from onlookers. He sneaked a glance over to Viola and Olivia's table, to see Viola smirking and Olivia with an indecipherable expression on her face. "I am. It's just—It's not working for me anymore."

Monique looked like she could murder him on the spot with how wrathful she looked, and Sebastian used all his willpower to not cringe. "You—You—You can't—you can't _break up _with me! Not _here! I'm _the one that would end this! NOT YOU!"

Sebastian managed a weak smile. "Sorry…"

"SORRY? You are an asshole, Sebastian Hastings! Go screw yourself!" she seethed, her made-up face incensed. Sebastian winced, but remained bracing himself. A few mouthings later, she seemed incapable now of making any further sounds, which Sebastian was almost grateful for.

He exhaled, wondering, if by some miracle, this was the most he'd get from her. "So…so, yeah, that's it," he finished lamely.

Her murderous look deepened, and Sebastian, in all his cowardly glory, escaped from her, ignoring the passersby's stares, leaving Monique simply standing there. Sadly, he wouldn't put it past Monique to give him some sort of hell-bent repercussion for ending things. At least he wouldn't have to repeat their conversation. He doubted he'd get out of it alive if he had to do it a second time.

"Vi," he whimpered, coming over to Viola's table, stealing a chair for the moment.

Viola was gallantly holding in her imminent cracking up. "That was quite entertaining," she managed, breathless from the effort it took not to laugh. "You're rather amusing, dear brother of mine."

Sebastian glared at her, but she let it slide off of her. "Well, apologies if she gives you hell," Sebastian said, quite _in_sincerely.

"Yeah, I'm sure you're so sorry," Viola said sarcastically, and Sebastian did nothing to refute it.

His eyes subconsciously strayed to the other occupant at the table, and he gave her a brief smile, which was returned. Viola looked between the two of them with a mixture of intrigue and annoyance. "H-Hi," Sebastian said, Viola having elbowed him rather inconspicuously.

"Hey," Olivia replied with a bright smile. "Nice to see you again."

Sebastian wasn't quite as eloquent as Olivia, but Viola stepped on his foot, urging him to go on, although his grunt wasn't exactly silent. "Yeah, you too," he replied quietly. "So—So you're having to do all of this, too."

Viola resisted the strong inkling to slap Sebastian. Sometimes he could be so densely ignorant. "Yes," Olivia replied, apparently ignoring Sebastian's uncomfortableness. "It's not all that bad. I mean, it gets annoying sometimes, but—"

"Ladies!"

Viola groaned loudly at the new voice, magnified by the microphone up front. Viola hadn't even noticed the people fill in chairs, one particularly incensed-looking girl pointedly staring at Sebastian, who was in her seat. He looked at her, then stood up quickly, feeling out of place remarkably fast. He gave a last smile to Olivia and Viola, then scampered away.

Olivia and Viola exchanged looks, before releasing laughter, quiet enough so it didn't disrupt everyone, but managing substantially to get dirty looks from the girls around the table. "That's my brother," Viola said in between breaths. "You'd better get used to it."

"Me?" Olivia questioned. Viola nodded. "Oh, I—I wasn't—he and I aren't—"

"It's okay," Viola said, shrugging off Olivia's undoubtedly denying responses.

She checked the clock behind her, seeing they'd only been there for ten minutes. Restraining herself from slamming her head repeatedly on the table in pain—it'd break the boring monotony—she slumped back in her chair, wishing she were anywhere else but here. To her somewhat surprise, her thoughts kept drifting back to her and Duke's argument about Coach Dinklage's discussion, and Viola started gaining regret as to what she'd said. Now she thought on it, it was more complimenting that Duke's coach—the _men's _soccer coach—had approached her. She made a note to apologize to Duke next time she saw him. Next time hopefully being sooner than later. Unable to prevent a small smile from broadening on her face, she let her daydream continue, it's contents leading her miles away from whatever the person at the front was actually saying. Hopefully soon, with any luck, some of the thoughts would be able to be played out…

* * *

**Well, I hope that was all right. It was longer than the previous ones I believe (longer wait, too…apologies), though I'm not sure how well it was written, especially towards the end. However, Sebastian and Monique are officially broken up, so that'll free up some Sebastian-Olivia romance stuff. More Duke-Viola to come, I promise. And more of the dance / dinner debutante stuff. Anyway, review please, and thanks to:**

**beauty7890102,**** footychick,**** Xx3.BusyGrlsLifeX3.14**, **vick86,**** GilbertDrone328,**** Mwoodard85,**** nikkitan89,**** Call Me Mimzy**, **preenad, Writergirl2011,**** bangelluvforever,**** astrakane,** and **randomlilnikki.**

Appreciations to everyone!


	8. Regret

**Revelations**

_Chapter Eight: Regret_

* * *

"Oh, and I almost forgot! The catering!" 

Viola groaned, loud enough so the table next to her shot her dirty looks. She looked at the intricately inlaid wall clock, and saw that a whole minute and a half had passed since she'd last studied it. It had officially been three hours since the "luncheon"—Viola thought of it as more of a torture-chamber-in-North-Korea session—started, and Viola had quickly begun to think this was worse than her Calculus class. Which was saying something.

"Would any of you save me if I stabbed myself with this butter knife?" Viola said, deadpanned, to the other five women at her table. They looked at her like she was crazy, and Viola sighed. Maybe death by butter knife really _was _the best way to go. At least she'd be free of the horror that was what she was enduring.

She rolled her eyes and got up, none too inconspicuously, and, ignoring the glares of not only the speaker, but who she assumed was Monique, strode out of the room. Viola sighed in relief as she exited the now squealing room of debutantes-to-be and their equally as hyperactive cohorts—apparently they hadn't missed her much—and she welcomed the fresh, stinging air.

She walked around to the back area of the building and into a secluded section of trees. Intrigued—and unable to quell her curiosity—she followed it, coming to a stone bench nearly completely covered in ivy. The pathway she'd just come in on was visible, but she doubted anyone would come looking for her here. She smiled at her mother's reaction.

She lay back upon the bench at the canopy of trees, emerald light reflected through them and onto the clearing she was in, and she wished she had her soccer ball to complete the surreal painting she felt like she was in. She forced herself to relax and let everything wash itself away, and although she didn't fully succeed, it did work for a little bit. Until, of course, the inevitable interruption came.

"Nice spot. I was worried you'd done something ridiculous, like, stabbed yourself with a butter knife."

Viola recognized the voice—though she was still slightly perturbed at the disruption, let alone the ire she still harbored towards it—and she suppressed a laugh. "Maybe I should have stabbed you with the butter knife," she said sardonically, then sat up, steadying herself at the vertigo that had ensued. "Why are you here, anyway?"

Duke, ever-present in a casual attire of jeans, a light blue t-shirt and a motorcycle jacket on (Viola wondered if he'd ridden it here), walked over to where she was sitting and motioned to the bench. "May I?" he asked, and Viola nodded after a few moments. There wasn't any use in harboring a grudge towards him; after all, what he'd done pissed her off, but it wasn't exactly a capital offense.

She figured she ought to say something to him, but apparently her vocal chords were no longer paying attention to her brain, as she found herself unable to talk, but rather just stare into nothingness. She ran a hand through her hair, which had now become undone from the bun her mother had forced her into, and she felt Duke shift next to her.

"Is there something I'm missing here?" he asked, and Viola stifled a smile.

"I'm sure there's a lot you're missing, Orsino," she said, finally looking over at him and into his green eyes.

He looked mock offended at her statement, but brushed it aside, turning his normally playful face into one of seriousness. "Viola, tell me what the issue is. All I did was tell Coach that I met you. I said you were an amazing soccer player. That you were the best female player I've met, and surpass at least a guy or two on my team. The rest was all his decision. I won't deny that I might have insinuated he check out your sports skills, but I didn't tell him outright. I had a feeling you're the person that would want someone to request your solid permission. I swear I didn't, Vi."

She stared at him, pursing her lips. She'd always had trust issues with people, especially ones she'd just met, and she realized Duke was no exception. It took many tries and countless one-liners for Justin to successfully get her on a date, and every bit of her except her heart—a factor that always seemed to get into trouble—was screaming at her to not believe him and drop him before anything happened. But unfortunately, it didn't seem as if that was in the cards for her at the moment.

"Okay." She said, and while the one word wasn't very special, her believing said a lot in and of itself.

Duke smiled sheepishly, like he either hadn't expected her to accept his explanation, or else he was embarrassed he'd told her what he did. "So we're all right?" he asked.

"'We'?" she questioned, eyebrow raised. She ignored the brief arrhythmia her heartbeat seemed to perform. She sighed. "Yeah, we are. It's not like you murdered anyone or cheated on me or anything…why should I have ill thoughts towards you?"

"Oh…yeah…right. Well, thanks," he said, color wicking into his face.

"Do you always blush so furiously?" Viola teased, laughing a little at him, the observation, of course, only making his situation worse.

"You're mean."

"I know," she said, grinning. "But you like me in spite of it."

She hadn't particularly meant the words to come out the way they did, in all their insinuating glory, and she hoped Duke hadn't caught her slipup. Unfortunately, however, the evasive look in his eyes and the brightening red in his coloring told her otherwise. It wasn't that she necessarily regretted saying them…she just wasn't sure about what she thought concerning the allusions her sentence caused.

"I—uh—sorry about that," she said, wishing she had the power to change certain past events. "I didn't really mean to say those to you."

He frowned, and Viola looked away awkwardly. _Great_, she mused sullenly. _Just when I thought things couldn't get any worse, I go and screw them up even more._

"Look, Duke…if there's one thing you need to know about me, it's that I'm not the most eloquent girl you'll meet. Things'll come out of my mouth that I don't intend, or don't have feeling behind, or are just plain crazy. And you'll have to forgive me for that. It's an inherent vice of mine, and I—"

"Viola…" Duke interrupted suddenly, Viola just then realizing how close they had seemed to get in the past few seconds. "I think your only vice is you overtalk."

She was vaguely aware of his face coming slightly towards her, and her eyes started to close, before some synapse in her brain fired and her head jerked away from him, his lips, instead of coming into contact with hers, landed on her cheek. He pulled away from her, and she felt a heartstring tug at his so obviously disappointed and embarrassed expression. He'd expected her to return the affection, and she—she closed her eyes, wishing once more she could take back the past.

"Duke—I'm—" she stuttered, unable to form a coherent fragment.

"Yeah, I have to go," he said, getting up brusquely from the bench and walking off, leaving her once again by herself.

Shocked at what had just happened, Viola put her feet up onto the bench where Duke had just sat, and for the first time in years, she started to cry.

* * *

"Until Sunday, ladies!" the woman—who had so irritated Viola—said, a full four hours after Viola had stormed out. 

There was polite clapping after she finished, plastered smiles all around on the faces of the debutantes-to-be and their mothers. Those seated at the table Viola had originally been at seemed even more joyous than others, but it was hard to tell amidst the mindless chatter and schmoozing going on now.

Sebastian—who had been playing catch with another one of the sons that had been dragged to the event—figured it was now over judging by the slow trickle of leaving guests, and maneuvered his way inside. He found his mother eventually, mainly owing to her bright yellow dress and overly ostentatious hat, and approached her, feeling boldly out of place amongst the flowery-appareled guests.

"Mom? Mother!" he said, trying to get her attention. Apparently, even though he had assumed his lower voice would get through to her, was being ignored. Sighing, he edged his way into the circle and tapped her on the shoulder. "Mom!"

"Oh! Sebastian, sweetheart, what are you doing here?" Daphne said, startled, as she evidently just noticed her son. One of the women next to Sebastian scoffed at him, but he merely pretended she didn't exist. It was, perhaps, better that way.

"What do you mean 'what am I doing here?'" he asked, slightly perplexed. "I'm looking for Vi. She asked me to pick her up after this thing ended, and I assumed she'd be the first one out, but she wasn't there. Do you know where she is?"

"Well, of course I know!" Daphne said, as if it were the simplest thing in the world. "She's right over—" She looked in the direction of the table Viola had originally been seated at—for the first few hours, anyway—and a look of confusion crossed her face. "Where is she?"

"That's what I asked _you_, Mom!" Sebastian said, exasperated. "You are _no_ help."

He walked away from the group to go outside, hoping she would be close by. Which, as he now mulled it over, she had to be. She'd gotten a ride from Sebastian himself, and last time he checked, his car was still in its parking spot, his keys safely in his pocket. Unless Viola had called someone else, which he doubted, she was somewhere around here. The only problem was figuring out where.

"Vi? Where are you?" Sebastian tried, calling out into the still air. It was on the somewhat uncomfortable chilly side, and he wrapped his jacket closer in on himself as he walked farther away from the congregation room, the sounds of cool chatter dimming. "Viola? You here?"

There were small snuffling sounds coming from somewhere in the distance, and he cautiously walked towards it. He didn't want to intrude upon anything, but he didn't want to get his hopes up just to find out it was some lousy rabbit or other scrounging animal. On the other hand, if it was his sister, he had to go to her.

He turned the corner to come upon a garden of sorts, sans the cultured order he would have expected from a place like this. By no means did it look particularly neglected and derelict, but it had the appealing, somewhat overgrown appearance to it. It wasn't until a few seconds later that Sebastian finally noticed the source of the whimpers he'd heard, in the form of a girl sitting on a roughly-hewn concrete bench.

With a small hitch of realization, he hurried over to it, sitting down upon the rickety stone. "Viola? What's wrong?" he asked immediately, all sarcasm thrown out the window, to be replaced with brotherly concern for his twin. "What happened?"

"Nothing, I'm fine," she said, though her voice was noticeably slurred in the way only distress could cause. She looked up at him, her red-tinged face, disheveled hair, and teary eyes only furthering Sebastian's suspicions.

"'Fine' my ass, Viola Jeanine Hastings," Sebastian said solemnly. "Come here, sis."

He put his arms around her, bringing her closer to him in a silent but reassuring hug. She stiffened at first, but then relented, her face buried in his chest as her shoulders shook slightly with shed and unshed tears. He removed the sweatshirt he'd had on to put it haphazardly around her in the thought she had to be quite cold, and while the sniffles didn't stop, her shivering did. Which was one mission accomplished; however, there was another substantially more important and affecting.

"Please tell me what happened?" he questioned lightly after a few moments.

She initially shook her head 'no,' but then removed her face from his now tear-streaked shirt to look at him. He still felt his older brother instincts dominating, but he knew it was probably better at this point to just let her emotions run their course. He'd have time for whatever he wanted to do later. But for the moment, it was all up to her as to what he knew or didn't.

"I made a big mistake, Sebastian," Viola said, brushing some stray tears away from her cheeks. "I said some things, did some things—or, rather, didn't do—that I shouldn't've."

"Duke?"

The answer was now so obvious in Sebastian's mind that it was a wonder to him how he hadn't realized it sooner. After all, the only things that ever made his little sister cry were nerve-splitting injuries, when her pet turtle died at her ninth birthday, and over a boy or two over the years. He couldn't remember their names now, but at the time they were significant. And considering her soccer was stable, she hadn't needed ICU as far as he knew, and the absence of animals, dead or alive, was still intact, he only assumed it could be a boy. Justin he deemed unworthy of her sorrow, and so the only man left was Duke.

"Yeah," she confirmed, voice slightly broken. "He—He tried to kiss me again, but I didn't let him. I just brushed him off like he was some complete stranger or creepy stalker…not like he actually meant something to me."

Sebastian ran a hand through his hair awkwardly. He wouldn't lie—he wasn't exactly the Dr. Laura of these situations, and he didn't want to make things worse by pretending he was. Unfortunately, their mother—while probably concerned at where Viola and Sebastian were most likely figured they were fine—was preoccupied at the time, and her best friends, Yvonne, Kia, or even Paul, were no doubt busy at the moment as well, which left him. Sebastian; not only male, but her brother. He was sincerely dubious that he was the ideal person to have around, but he was the only one here. He'd rather have her with him than alone.

"What are you going to do, Vi?" he asked tentatively. He didn't want to cause another onset of tears. The situation was precarious as it was.

"I don't know, Sebastian," she replied sadly. "I mean, I want to see him again, but I don't know how I can face him after this. I'm so embarrassed and ashamed…he probably won't want to see me anyway. Why should I try?"

"Because he's mindlessly attracted to you," Sebastian said, wondering a bit how she didn't see how obvious it was. But then again, he doubted Duke had an idea how much Viola liked him as well. "You can't honestly say that you didn't know that, Vi. It kind of blatant."

"Really?" she asked, and for the first time since he'd arrived in the garden, he saw a spark of hope in her eyes.

Sebastian laughed, despite everything. "Seriously, Viola…for all you say how good you are in advising on relationships and how you control things, you've gone into this rather blind, if I do say so."

Viola scoffed at him, and for a moment, she looked like the same Viola that had taunted and played with him like the siblings they were since practically the minute she was born. "You're really not helping," Viola said miserably. "If anything, you're making things worse."

Sebastian snorted in disbelief. "_I'm_making things worse?" he asked incredulously. "I'm not the one that built myself a tangled web, so to speak. At least I've got my love life straight. No Monique, and a possible Olivia. That's all I see. You, however…your love life is as screwed up as you are."

Viola punched him on the arm, and he rubbed it, more to humor her than anything, though he had to admit it stung a little. She had about as good a hit as she did a kick. He'd experienced both on more than one occasion, and needless to say, he never enjoyed them. "Why, thanks, dear brother of mine. Just don't come crying to me when your oh-so-eloquent words of affection towards Olivia don't go as planned," she said self-righteously.

Sebastian had half a mind to point out that she was the one who had been crying, but he refrained, not wanting to have her start with a fresh bout of tears. Much as he appreciated his sister, he didn't want to become her Kleenex box, or, worse, a pseudo-Kia and Yvonne. He practically shuddered at the thought. A guy could only handle so much sobbing and witless emotion.

"I'll keep that in mind, sis," he settled, letting his original thoughts float to the back of his mind.

A minute of silence fell between them, during which only a few tweets from various birds and some foliage rustling from, as Sebastian mused cynically, the unseen rabbit. Viola had now gotten fair enough control over her emotions and was sitting on her own now; at least, she wasn't openly weeping and acting very non-Viola-ish anymore, for which Sebastian was grateful.

"Thanks, Sebastian," Viola said, breaking the quiet as she turned to stare somberly at him.

"For what?"

"'For what?'" Viola asked, it being her turn to feel incredulous. "Sebastian, don't play stupid, much as the role may come easily to you. You know what you did. I just—I want you to know that it means a lot to me." She paused, then laughed half-heartedly. "You were always the one that could get through to me."

Sebastian grinned at her. "Well, that's true," he conceded, glad she was getting back to normal. "But you still haven't answered my question, Vi. What are you going to do about Duke? He's not just going to disappear, you know; your problem isn't just going to go away."

"And there goes the sympathetic and comforting side of my brother," Viola sighed. Sebastian glared at her in the way only a big brother could, causing her to roll her eyes with response. "I'm going to go find him and apologize. And see what goes from there."

"That's my girl," Sebastian said fondly, pulling her into another hug and giving her the keys to his car. "Now go on, will you? And keep in mind that this'll probably be the last time for a long, long while that I act this ridiculously nice to you. Got it?"

Viola smiled. "Yeah, got it," she affirmed, giving him a swift kiss on the cheek. "Thanks again, bro. I always knew you were a softie deep down. Wonder if Olivia knows…?"

Viola jogged off before Sebastian could get ahold of her, and though he was annoyed at the comment, he was at least partially glad she was up and about again. "You'd better run, Hastings!" he shouted after her, before trudging up the hill to go back into the luncheon and tell his mother he'd found Viola and that he'd need a carpool from her. If he saw Olivia on the way, the better for him. In his mind, it was a win-win situation.

* * *

Viola put the car in park as she pulled into Illyria's lot, making a mental reminder to tell Sebastian she'd not gotten a scratch on his beloved F-150, which he considered practically his own child. She also reluctantly noted that he had, without hesitation, given her temporary possession of it. That, coupled with his spontaneous therapy session, made her in debt of him twice. Much as he may have seemed unnaturally sweet just now, she knew that he also wouldn't have any qualms to mention that to her in the future when he wanted something. 

She started walking towards the soccer fields as she heard the two bleeps signaling the vehicle was now locked, and she only wished her life was as secure as the anti-theft protection on his car. Still, she continued onwards towards the pitch, the destination cemented in her mind, even though she realized she had no idea whether Duke would be there or not. If he was anything like her, however—and she had a feeling he was like her in more ways than one—he would definitely be currently taking up residence there. She knew if she were in his situation, she would be as well. It was only a matter of now hoping she wouldn't lose courage once she actually got up to him.

* * *

Duke, meanwhile, was busy kicking the seams off of his soccer ball with the force of trying to separate the leather pentagons and hexagons from each other. Which was, of course, his method of dealing with frustration, disappointment, dejection, and humiliation that happened to all be commingled with each other. Today definitely had to rank as one of his worst. That much he was sure of. 

He sprinted to the other end of the field to retrieve his trusted soccer ball, the same one that had been with him for years. Most mocked him for it, for keeping a ball circa 2003, but he tended to like gear that was reliable and familiar to him, no matter how old, rather than something new that he had no idea how it melded with him. In fact, he hated buying new soccer cleats, even when in desperate need—it was even worse than wearing in new shoes, because with cleats, you had no choice but to play in them. You couldn't just stretch them out with your hands, otherwise they wouldn't work right.

Shaking that useless thought out of his head, he reached the opposite goal, reaching into the netting to retrieve the ball, twirling it from one hand to another before letting it drop on the ground. Idly, he shifted his weight from his left to his right, unsure of what to do next. For the past hour and a half—_since you left Viola_, his mind snickered—he'd been aimlessly knocking the ball about the field, but now it was almost getting upsetting by itself. There were only so many times you could kick a ball by yourself across the pitch without an objective.

"God, could I be any more pathetic?" he scolded himself, taking a step back and slamming his foot into the ball with all the power he could muster up, sending it fast and hard away from him. Unfortunately, it was neither towards the goal nor within the field's lines, but rather towards the parking lot. "Fantastic. Just fantastic," he muttered as he ran to go after it.

"What'd the ball ever do to you?"

He stopped short at the voice and looked up from the ground that he'd been paying attention to as he ran. Viola was standing a mere few feet in front of him, holding his ball lightly in her hands, brushing some stray pieces of grass off of the leather. She looked slightly strange on the field with her low-heeled shoes, skirt, and tank top, as compared to him in grunged-down sweats and cleats. And yet, at the same time, she looked perfectly at home.

"V-Viola…" he stuttered, honestly surprised to see her here. He was also a bit miffed at himself—was he really that predictable as to where he went when he was in distress? "What—What're you doing here?"

"Honest?" she asked rhetorically, but he nodded numbly anyway. "Trying to find you, Duke."

Well,_that_ much he hadn't expected. He didn't really peg her as one to readily apologize—even ninety minutes ago the "apology" seemed like it took some strength to say—and so with that action along with her simple presence here was a little astonishing, at least to him. She looked away from him then, and he realized he hadn't responded to her. And even if they were at odds, he felt he at least owed her a reply. It was simply common courtesy.

"Why? It seems you made your intentions pretty clear a while ago," he said, with perhaps more scathe than he first intended. "What's changed?"

"Nothing, Duke," Viola said, with an expression of cognizance dawning on her own face, like she was coming to terms with her own words. "Nothing that I should've said."

He frowned at her—what exactly was she playing at? He'd gone out with his share of girls, and none of them were quite like Viola. Since he'd known her, that fact had seemed good and bad at certain times, and now it was edging towards the malignant category. At least his ex-girlfriends had been see-through enough so he could comprehend what their meaning was. Viola on the other hand…he had no idea at what she was getting.

"Simplify it for me, will you, Viola?" Duke said harshly. He winced internally at his cutting tone; even though his pride said he had every right to be cruel, his conscience and upbringing told him otherwise. "Because frankly I haven't the slightest comprehension what you're really trying to say."

She took a few steps closer to him, and exhaled deeply; Duke was still trying to figure out what she was doing. This whole not-anticipating-anything business was getting frustrating. "This."

She dropped the ball and put her arms around his neck, and before he could fully realize what she was doing, she kissed him. Needless to say, he was shocked. In fact, he was stunned where he stood. After a moment or two, she pulled away, her face this time utterly unabashed. On the contrary, she seemed to almost enjoy his speechlessness. The fact that she was once again in control of the situation.

"I—I—what did you—what are you—Viola—?"

She tried (and failed) to contain a smile at his inability to form a complete sentence, and brushed a strand of hair out of his face where it had become plastered to his forehead from the exertion he'd had that afternoon. "If my vice is overtalking, yours is not being able to be comprehensible in certain situations, Duke Orsino."

"That's—That's all you have to say?" he said, vastly aware of the awkwardness consuming him.

"No," she admitted, though her eyes never left his. "I'm sorry, Duke. Really I am. I've always had some commitment issues, even since I was young, and it's forever been hard for me to get close to people, especially those to whom I have immediate attraction to. People like you. And while it's demeaningly cliché to say, it really is me and not you that's at fault here. No matter what you say, I just want you to know that I do apologize and I hope you forgive me."

She extracted her hands from him, giving him a last look before turning away, one shaking breath later. She got a few steps away before all her words caught up with Duke's brain, but when they did, he crossed that small distance in half a second. He reached out and grabbed her hand, effectively making her turn around, and he didn't miss the look of prospect shimmer across her face.

"I do, Viola," he said, all too mindful of his mildly cracked voice. "I do forgive you."

A brief smile shone on her visage before she reached up and connected their lips, the kiss starting out tentative and innocent, but Duke had quite a strong inkling it wouldn't stay that way for long. He was vaguely aware of the sprinklers going off in the distance, and perhaps even showering upon them, but he was rather preoccupied with Viola. Considering the way she was passionately responding to him, she felt the same.

And as he stood there with her, he truly understood just how much he was glad he _hadn't_ met anyone like her. Because if there were more than one Viola Hastings, she wouldn't mean nearly as much to him as she did. As much as he shrewdly thought she would continue to grow in importance to him.

* * *

_Thus ends Chapter Eight, but before I go this time I have a few things to say:_

_1. I am exceedingly sorry for how long I've made you guys wait for this and how disappointing it probably was at its mediocre length. And as much as I'd like to give you a guarantee that this won't happen again, I'm not sure I could do that. All I can say is I will try my very best to make more chapters come sooner.  
2. The last line of this one may seem like it's the end of the story, but it's not. Mind you, I don't know how many more I'll have, but this isn't the end of it yet.  
3. For some reason I feel there might be some continuity issues in this, but I'm not sure which, if any, there are. If you all find any, please PM/review me and I'll fix it immediately.  
4. As always, if you guys have any ideas you'd like me to put in motion, please PM/review and I'll be happy to incorporate them. There are still character developments to go on, namely with the as-yet-not-introduced Eunice, as well as Kia/Andrew, Yvonne, Paul, etc., so those will be in future chapters as well, but if you have anything you'd like, I'd be glad to hear it.  
5. I hope you had, and/or will continue to have a great holiday season and a happy new year. Since I probably won't have a chance to say it before January 1__st__…Happy 2008!!!_

_Thanks for listening and bearing with me through all the tribulations—I truly and honestly appreciate it, you guys, and all the happiness you give me with being my audience._

_Sincerely,  
written in dreams_

P.S. Thanks to…

**Beauty7890102, bangelluvforever, vicki86, Writergirl2011, Harri B, astrakane, Xx3.BusyGrlsLifeX3.14, GilbertDrone328, preenad, deepsphere, Mwoodard85, truthaboutforeverlvr, PalisDelon, openwindow4, and freogirl1989.**_ Once again, I'm sorry for not updating! But I promise I am still here!  
_


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